


The Language of Flowers

by SpartaDog



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Flowers, Gang War, Gangs, Gay Robots, Language of Flowers, M/M, Robots, copious amounts of flowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartaDog/pseuds/SpartaDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of one omnic finding another, in the last place either of them expected, and the last place they wanted to be. Alternatively: that time there was a small scale international gang war over a florist's assistant.</p><p>Set sometime before the events of Dragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is actually my first time writing in about 4 years, and my first time doing something serious at all, and my first time posting it anywhere online ever.
> 
> Since I first saw Hero, I always shipped the omnic getting beat up with the omnic Hanzo shoots in Dragons. This story is just me making that ship plausible.
> 
> Major thanks to the Robots In Love genyatta discord server for beta reading, encouraging me and feeding me ideas and whatnot. Wouldn't have done this without you guys!
> 
> Credit for Owen's name goes to Scuzer @ tumblr.

If he had the option to be anywhere else in the world at this moment, he would be there. Mexico, thus far, had been nothing short of horrible. It was ungodly hot, everything was so garishly colored, and his temporary… “colleagues” were an absolute menace. No structure, no purpose, just there to peacock around town and rake in enough illegal money to peacock even more.

They’d made it abundantly clear during negotiations that they did not work with omnics. Why the boss insisted on sending him anyway, he wasn’t really sure. No one was happy about it. He was lucky to step out of the car in one piece upon arrival, with how quickly the entire gang had drawn their weapons. Fortunately for him, and by extension everyone else, Ichiro had calmed everyone down. Well, threatened them into submission.

It was a tenuous working relationship, but a functional one. There was a mutual understanding that no one trusted anyone from the other side. And if these cocky sons of bitches refused to address him directly, well, that was just less bullshit he had to deal with. 

Two months, and he could go home. Two months, and he could leave this shitty pick-up truck behind and go back to his comfortable apartment in Hanamura. Two months, and he could go back to powering down to the sounds of those stupid fucking alley cats-

“Oni, you coming?”

Daisuke’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He stood, brushed that damn dust that was everywhere in this place off his pristine black suit, and followed his teammates off the bed of the truck. They’d stopped in a modest little town on the coast, the harbor visible at the bottom of the cliff. Supposedly it was a great location for trafficking, and they were to scope it out and report back to the heads of the families back home. Oni thought it the first pleasant sight he’d seen since leaving Japan, until they were taken off the main road. The alleys seemed inexplicably darker than they should have been, the buildings and mountains working in tandem to block out the sun. It made it all the easier to spot the glowing neon graffiti on the walls reading “Los Muertos”. He hadn’t gotten around to installing his text translation software before the trip, but the implication was obvious.

Oni hung near the back of the group, hands in his pockets, not overly eager to get close to the rowdy thugs acting as their escorts. Even while taking in his surroundings, he’d noticed them glancing over their shoulders at him more than once, and it wasn’t long before one joined him at the back. They said nothing to each other, but Oni noticed the man’s hand resting on the gun at his hip. Point taken.

Suddenly one of the gang members at the front pointed in front of them and called out, “Hey! Look who it is!” 

Oni craned his neck to see over the group. Half a block ahead was a single omnic carrying several paper bags in one hand and a large sack in the other. He turned his head to look back at them, immediately dropped his burden and bolted in the opposite direction. Los Muertos howled and cheered, taking off after the omnic without hesitation, including the one standing next to Oni. The yakuza members exchanged confused looks, and jogged after their escorts. 

Less than halfway through the alley, the gang had already surrounded the omnic. He was shaking, both trembling hands held palms-forward in front, and head bowed. Oni could hear him speaking, but they were too far away for his translator to pick up until they were nearly on top of him. “P-please, I haven’t told anyone, I don’t….I don’t want any trouble.”

Javier, the unofficial leader of this group, slung an arm around the omnic’s shoulders, pulling him into a chokehold with a wide grin. “Hear that, boys? He don’t want any trouble.” He flicked the antenna on the omnic’s head. “That’s good, ‘cause neither do we.”

He released his hold on him, the omnic rubbing his neck and looking up at him, bewildered. He glanced around, muttered a quick thank you and started to hurry back the way they came.

“Hey!”

The omnic stopped short. Javier leaned back with his arms crossed, beckoning him closer with one finger. The omnic hesitated, but reluctantly complied. Javier draped an arm over his shoulder again, more loosely this time. The rest of Los Muertos were snickering amongst themselves. “ _As I was saying_ ,” Javier continued, “we don’t want no trouble either. Which is why…” the hand on the omnic’s shoulder slid to his back, “we gotta do this.”

Javier shoved the omnic forward hard, landing on his hands and knees, and kicked him onto his side. The rest of them began cackling, a few of them aiming a hard kick or two at him as well. The omnic said nothing, just curled up and covered his vital components as best he could. Javier kneeled in front of him. “I thought we made it perfectly fucking clear last time, but apparently you’re too fucking thick. So we gotta try again. Maybe this time you’ll learn your place.” He stood again, punctuating his next words with jabbing kicks at his head. “You. Are not. _Welcome. Here!_ ”

Oni sat and watched, unphased by the whole scene. He’d seen plenty of violence in his day, and as much as disdain as he had for Los Muertos, it was not his place to get involved in their business. He noticed, however, that Ichiro looked less than impressed.

The man raised a hand, the gesture clean and sharp as he himself, and the entire crowd silenced. Javier looked over his shoulder with a raised brow as Ichiro spoke. “Are you finished?”

Javier looked at the omnic and back at him, lifting the other brow. Ichiro continued. “Are you _finished?_ Either kill the omnic or let it go. This is highly unprofessional. We are here on business; we do not have time for your games.”

Javier hesitated, then laughed and shook his head. “Oh of course, _excuse_ me, where are my manners.” He rolled his shoulders haughtily and stood to face Ichiro directly. “You are in Dorado, my friend. Los Muertos’ territory. And this? This is how we do things in Dorado.” He stood to the side, holding an arm out to gesture to the omnic, still curled up on the ground. The unspoken threat did not go unnoticed, but Ichiro did not move from his spot.

Javier shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned and continued attacking the omnic, the yakuza members crossing their arms impatiently. 

The beating continued for several minutes, many of them yelling words vulgar enough that Oni’s translator skipped over them, until one of the larger members approached the omnic with a heavy lead pipe. He raised it up over his head and brought it down hard on the omnic’s chest, a loud _clang_ and the omnic’s first cry of pain echoing down the alleyway. The men laughed, and the pipe came down again. And again. And again.

Ichiro grew impatient again, this time raising his voice. “Enough! We have business to attend to!”

Javier spun on his heels, swiping the pipe out of the other man’s hand and pointing it at Ichiro. “If you’re so eager to get a move on, why don’t you kill the fucking thing? Hmm? This is our city, and these stupid fucking tin cans keep fucking shit up. You’re our guest. Help your gracious hosts.”

Again, Ichiro didn’t move. Instead, Oni stepped forward, holding his hand out for the pipe. He spoke, voice deep and assertive, the first time since landing that he’d addressed a Los Muertos member directly. “Enough.”

Javier looked at him, disgust clear on his face, but lifted the pipe toward his hand. At the last second, he turned and swung the pipe into the other omnic’s stomach like a golf club, denting one of his abdominal pistons. Oni allowed himself a small growl of annoyance before taking two steps forward and landing a strong punch square in the back of Javier’s head, instantly knocking him unconscious.

The man crumpled at Oni’s feet, the pipe clattering to the floor at his side. When Oni looked up, all of Los Muertos had their weapons drawn and trained on him. A glance over his shoulder, and his cohorts had their guns aimed into the crowd of Los Muertos. Oni was not oblivious to the irony of having a Mexican standoff in Mexico.

Ichiro was the first to speak. One hand pointing his pistol in front of him, he gestured to Javier with the other. “Masato, take him back to the truck and treat his injuries. He can rejoin us when he has awoken. Is that agreeable?”

Los Muertos looked between each other, slowly nodding and lowering their weapons one by one. The yakuza men did not. Masato approached Oni, handgun still facing into the crowd until he had no use but to holster it, and picked up the limp gang leader. Once he was draped securely over his shoulder, Masato patted Oni’s shoulder and headed back the way they came. Ichiro spoke again. “Now, if you would be so kind, please take us to the harbor as we arranged.”

Los Muertos begrudgingly continued down the alley, a few pausing to spit at the omnic on the ground. The yakuza holstered their weapons and followed without further comment. 

Oni looked down at the omnic for a moment; he had several scuffs and dents, but there was no way to tell if any of his internal vital systems had been damaged. He wasn’t looking at him, head tucked under one arm against the pavement, entire body still trembling. A small distorted whimper escaped him once or twice.

Oni straightened his suit, replaced his hands in his pockets, stepped around the omnic and followed after his team.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the evening had gone relatively smoothly. Without Javier around to get Los Muertos going, they’d been pretty tame. Or maybe they were just pissed off and eager to get back to assaulting random omnics in the street. They showed the yakuza some of the secret back passages and smuggling tunnels leading to and from the harbor, and sure enough, it seemed prime real estate for trafficking drugs and weapons. 

Oni walked up the empty lamplit streets alone now. Ichiro had dismissed them for the night, and told them to acquaint themselves with the area. He’d hoped to find a bar nearby; even if he couldn’t partake, there were always interesting characters and loose lips to entertain him. So far, there had been no such luck. So he wandered aimlessly for a while, hands in his pockets, suit jacket open and the top three buttons of his white shirt undone, just enough to show the top of gold hexagonal centerpiece on his chest.

The city was quiet at night. In a place run by a gang of criminals, especially one like Los Muertos, he expected a far more active seedy underbelly. Instead he found the streets abandoned but clean, doused in a blue moonlight interrupted only by the occasional yellow streetlamp or sconce. A few of the windows in the nearby homes remained dimly lit, and the remains of a small festival lay strewn about one of the plazas, but otherwise, there wasn’t a single sign the town was lived in.

Just when he’d decided to give up and head to the hotel for the night, Oni heard a clutter and a hushed voice from the alley to his left. Activating the low-light vision in his sensors, he quickly saw an omnic hiding behind a garbage can, next to a neat pile of paper bags and a sack. Oni put two and two together quickly; this was the omnic they’d run into earlier.

Glancing around him and spotting no one, Oni decided to head into the alley, curiosity getting the better of him. He stopped on the other side of the garbage can, waiting for the other omnic to respond; when he didn’t, he cleared his throat. The omnic jumped with a sharp yelp and clammered to his feet, backing away from Oni quickly with his hands up, mumbling quickly in Spanish too fast and quiet and stuttered for his translator to detect. Oni didn’t move, instead looking around the alley and settling on the bags, gesturing to them. “Are these yours?”

The omnic didn’t answer, his body language looking unsure. No translator chip, he guessed. Oni let out a synthetic sigh and looked around him again, making sure there were no stray Los Muertos within earshot. Satisfied, he tried again, this time slipping into the native omnic language, a series of quiet whirrs and chirps known only to machines. He could have used Spanish with his translator, but he figured this would set him more at ease. “These bags, are they yours?”

The omnic looked shocked and at a loss for words, but it seemed to take down enough walls to start a conversation. “U-uhm, y-yes. You can take them if you want. I don’t want-”

“You don’t want any trouble, I know.” Oni approached the bags, taking a peek in them curiously. Two held long stalks full of rows of brightly colored flowers, and two more contained what Oni assumed were bulbs. The label on the sack was written in Spanish, but he could gather from the images that it was some sort of fertilizer or potting soil. “What are these?”

“Oh, uh, snapdragons. They….they’re just flowers.”

Curiosity sated, Oni straightened and gestured to the alley. “Do you live here? In the alley?” 

The omnic shook his head. Oni paused. “...Have you left the alley today?”

The omnic hesitated, but shook his head again. Oni replaced the hand in his pocket. “Why?”

The omnic looked unsure, as though answering would give him away. The yakuza member slackened his shoulders. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. Are you okay? You need a mechanic?”

The omnic’s body language shifted immediately to plain confusion and surprise. He looked behind him down the alley, as though expecting this to be some sort of cruel joke, then turned back. Oni shrugged. “I’m off-duty. No one here but me.”

“I…” He hesitated, checking behind him one more time before slowly standing straight. “I….I’ll be fine. I can find a mechanic in the morning.”

Oni nodded. “So why didn’t you go home?”

“I was….afraid they would be waiting for me.”

“Los Muertos?”

“Yes.”

“Hnn.” Oni turned and walked back toward the end of the alley, scanned the street and a few nearby buildings for heat signatures, and did the same facing back into the alley. Picking up only a few civilians and a couple of stray dogs, he approached the omnic again. “There are three families having dinner, and four more getting ready to go to bed. Other than that, it’s only us.”

“O-oh. Alright. Thank you.” He looked down at the flowers, making no move to pick them up. Apparently he sensed the look Oni was giving him. “U-uhm….can...can I trust you?”

“Well…” Oni began, unable to keep the smirk from his voice. “If I was untrustworthy, it would be counterproductive to tell you as much, wouldn’t it?”

The omnic didn’t look comforted. “I mean….y-you stopped Los Muertos from beating me. Your friend didn’t kill me when offered.” He paused briefly. “...That was you, right?”

Oni nodded, and the omnic did in turn. “I thought so. Not many look like you around here. Eheh.”

Oni cocked his head in amusement. The omnic shook his head, snapping himself back to his original train of thought. “Can I ask….why you did that?”

Oni shrugged. “We had work to do.”

“But why did you knock him out? You could have dragged him away, or killed me instead. Why knock him out?”

Oni hesitated, but tilted his head back, impressed by the omnic’s astuteness. Apparently he’d done a lot of thinking sitting in this alley with his flowers. “I don’t turn my nose up at violence. But that was just unnecessary.”

The omnic shifted uncomfortably, not sure if that was supposed to put him at ease or not. After a moment, he spoke again. “I...I know I have no real right, but...could I ask a favor of you?”

“That depends, what’s the favor and how much are you willing to pay?”

The omnic stiffened nervously from head to toe. “O-oh...I, uhm...I don’t think I can pay anything…”

“And what’s the favor?”

“W-well….I….” He looked past Oni down the street, made a sound akin to a dejected sigh and shook his head. “Nevermind. Thank you for checking on me. Have a good night.”

Oni turned, following the omnic’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at specifically, but he could take a guess what he’d meant to ask. He turned back to find the omnic finally picking up the bags of flowers. As he moved to lift the bag of soil, Oni rested one foot atop it, next to the omnic’s hand. The omnic looked at it for a moment, then up at him, and took half a step back, sure this was the point where the scary new gang member would make his demands.

Instead, Oni lifted his foot and hoisted the sack onto his own shoulder. He straightened, replacing the free hand in his pocket. “Let me walk you home.”

The omnic looked floored. “I…but...I-I can’t pay you.”

“Which is why I said ‘let me walk you home’, and not ‘are you in need of a bodyguard.’ Which way are we going?”

The omnic didn’t answer immediately, giving his surprise a moment to ebb. He shook his head suddenly to bring himself back to reality and pointed down the street. “That way. To the florist shop.”

Oni nodded and stepped back, gesturing for the omnic to go in front of him. It would be easier to make sure no one snuck up on them that way. Now that he was out of the shadows of the alley, Oni could get a better look at him. He’d surely seen better days. His torso was slightly askew, no doubt due to that dented abdominal piston, and he walked with a slight but noticeable limp. Oni guessed from the clicking sound that something had lodged in one of the servos in his legs. The antenna on his head was bent at a forty-five degree angle.

“My name is Owen, by the way.”

Oni looked up, not having expected the omnic to start conversation on his own. It seemed a strange name for someone in Mexico, but who was he to judge. “Oni.”

The omnic looked over his shoulder at him, slowing his pace until they were side by side. “Oni? That’s your name?”

“That’s what people call me.”

“Oni it is, then.”

The rest of the walk was silent. Oni could only imagine the things running through Owen’s mind, all the things he must have wanted to ask, but fortunately seemed too smart to try. The less he knew the better, and Owen seemed keenly aware of that. It made Oni wonder how many times he’d been through things like this.

Eventually they came to a small florist shop, just as Owen said. There was a small yellow lantern hanging above the door and a single lit window on the second floor, but the store itself was locked down for the night. Owen tried the door but found it locked. Next he tried knocking on the door, apparently the less appealing option judging by the low groan that accompanied it.

Some muffled yelling and the sound of hurried footsteps on old stairs, and the door was open, a short, elderly woman in a nightgown standing in the doorway. “Ay, Owen, mijo! Where have you been, we’ve been worried sick!” She pulled the omnic into a tight, grappling hug, then smacked him upside the head. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

“I know, Tía, I know, I’m sorry, I-”

The woman cut him off, somehow without a word or gesture, just by turning her attention to Oni. His appearance must have unsettled her, as she quickly made the sign of the cross. “Who’s your...friend, mijo?”

Owen glanced between them briefly. “O-oh, this, uh, this is Oni. He...he helped me today.”

Oni bowed politely, remembering midway through that he was not in Japan, but completing the action anyway. Even with the heavy sack on his shoulder, the gesture seemed effortless. The woman gave him a once-over, then nodded. “Well, thank you then, señor. Come inside now, mijo. Did you get the antirrinos?”

Owen shifted the bags to one arm and held up his now free hand, protesting against the woman’s ushering. “In a minute, Tía. Take the bags and leave them on the counter. I’ll put everything away in a minute.”

The woman gave him a look, but took the bags and disappeared into the shop without another word. Oni set the sack down carefully by the door, and Owen stood and shifted nervously. “Uhm, sorry, about that.” He shook his head. “And….thank you. For your help today. Even if it was just business.”

Oni bowed again, more casually this time. “My pleasure.” He pulled his wallet out from inside his jacket, removed a credit chit, and handed it to Owen. “For the mechanic.”

Owen was left speechless yet again.

“Good night." Oni bowed a final time and stepped off into the darkness, disappearing around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to get a hold of me or see my artwork, you can find me here:  
> http://spartadog.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Of all the different assignments one could get in his line of work, standing watch was one of Oni’s favorites. It was easy, it was relaxing, and in a public place like this, it could be entertaining. As much as Mexico had thrown him for a loop, he had to admit, people watching in a foreign country, especially one so bright and colorful, was interesting to say the least. The sun was out, but he and Masato were posted outside the restaurant, under a much-appreciated awning, a waiter bringing a glass of water to Masato every so often. It was basically like paid time off, if only for a couple of hours.

Inside, he was sure things were not so carefree. Ichiro had sat down with the heads of Los Muertos, the real leaders, not the self-appointed hotshots like Javier. They’d arranged a holo call with one of the prominent heads of family that employed Oni; he had to admit, he was surprised any of the bosses thought this occasion worth their time. He’d sensed the undeniable nervousness on all of Los Muertos as he passed them on his way to his post.

Apparently, word spread quickly within the Mexican gang. He noticed quite a few frankly stereotypical-looking rebellious teenagers casting him a dirty look or three as they passed him on the street. He was sure that, had word not also spread of how quickly the yakuza troup had ended the confrontation, they would be throwing more than looks his way.

The street itself seemed an entirely different world than the silent lamplit village it had been a few nights before. It was bustling, noisy, and active; residents going about their daily errands, children weaving between pedestrians after a stray soccer ball, fishermen hauling their catch up the cliff from the harbor. It was somehow both new and intriguing, yet comfortably familiar at the same time.

A sudden fumbling figure in front of him drew his attention. It was an omnic, one he recognized rather quickly, carrying a cumbersome-looking crate of flower arrangements. Masato and Oni both held an arm in front of him as he approached the door, causing him to stop short.

The omnic glanced between them, lingering on Oni a moment longer, looking like he wanted to say something before looking back to Masato, apparently thinking better of it. Masato spoke first. 

“Business?”

Owen looked stumped, turning to Oni helplessly. Oni tilted his head slightly toward Masato, then gave a barely noticeable shake. Owen tensed visibly, relaxing only when Masato repeated himself, this time in Spanish. Oni was glad they’d brought a polyglot along; using his native language in public always drew unwanted attention.

Owen scrambled to collect himself and form an answer. “O-oh, well, there’s….there’s a quinceañera scheduled to be hosted at this restaurant later tonight. I was sent to set up the flower arrangements ahead of time.”

Oni and Masato exchanged a glance, then Masato continued. “Set the crate down slowly and step back, please.”

Fear set in on Owen again as he complied. Masato took a knee and began sifting through the bouquets and centerpieces, making sure there was nothing illicit hidden in the densely packed blooms. He rattled off a quick series of questions, what shop he’d come from, what time the party was, the omnic’s answers always quiet and nervous but without hesitation. While he interrogated, Oni gave Owen a full body scan, not needing to move his head in the slightest. No explosives, concealed weapons, no mysterious unidentified objects; everything came up normal.

Once he was out of questions, Masato turned his eyes up to Oni, who gave a brief, singular nod. Owen’s relief was palpable. Masato stood and snapped his fingers, Daisuke appearing at his side in seconds. He gestured to the crate. “The omnic is delivering flowers. Take this crate and follow him.”

Daisuke nodded wordlessly and hoisted the crate up, finding it lighter than expected, if inconveniently bulky. Owen held a hand out to protest, more than able to carry it himself, but thought better than to insist. He bowed his head quickly, remembering how Oni had done so far more elegantly the other night, and muttered a small “thank you.” He gave the other omnic one last lingering look, then led Daisuke inside.

It was almost another hour before Ichiro appeared between them, his expression displeased. He wiped his glasses with a cloth, saying nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was hushed, pointedly sticking to Japanese. “Nakada-sama will be here in three days. He wishes to oversee the rest of the operation himself.”

Oni and Masato exchanged a shocked glance. Oni even went so far as to take a step forward, though he kept his voice even. “He’s coming here? What could be important enough for him to oversee directly?”

Ichiro shook his head, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing. He was not impressed with the way these street rats conduct business. He will be negotiating with their leaders directly from here on out. We need only prepare for his arrival, and escort once he is here.”

Oni had to admit, those words were music to his ears. The less he had to deal with Los Muertos, the better. And if that blessing came in the form of more guard duty, he would not be one to complain.

\------------------------

Oni glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven o’clock, and this party was still going. He hadn’t expected to be back at the same bar later that night, but considering it was the only one in the entire city where he’d seen omnics coming and going, he figured he didn’t have much choice. Now, he was beginning to regret it.

The main area of the restaurant was mostly empty, leaving Oni to assume they would normally be closed by now. The music from the back room was still pounding as though the sun hadn’t set yet, and tired-looking waiters rushed in and out with unfaltering diligence. Oni shook his head and ordered a third shot of the most expensive oil they had. Tipping his head back, he poured the shot directly down the intake in his throat in one go, warming and smoothing his pipes on the way down. 

A small voice from behind him broke the relative quiet. “Ah, I hoped I’d find you here. Are…are you off duty?”

Oni looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Owen standing behind him, hands behind his back and leaning forward curiously. Oni nodded and turned back to his empty glass, assuming Owen would take the unspoken invitation.

He didn’t, instead shuffling on his feet and presenting a small bouquet of peach roses, held together with a wide pink ribbon. Oni looked at it in confusion.

“I...I know it isn’t much, but...I wanted to thank you for what you did for me, really thank you, and this is...really the only way I know how. So...please.”

Oni watched him speak, then looked at the flowers for a moment, eventually taking them gingerly from his hand. Owen relaxed and made a pleased sound. Setting the flowers carefully on the bartop, Oni gestured to the barstool next to him. Owen scanned the room again before sliding into the offered seat. 

Owen was the first to speak again, Oni being perfectly content to sit in comfortable silence. This time, he fell into the omnic language, but kept his volume low. “So…are you like, a security guard?”

Oni chuckled softly. “Something like that.”

“Mmm. If you were dealing with them...perhaps it’s better I don’t know.”

“Probably.”

Silence settled in again for a moment. Oni didn’t mind the conversation, and Owen assumed that the invitation to sit meant he welcomed it, but neither seemed sure of what to say. Owen was, unsurprisingly, the first to try again. 

“So, you don’t seem like you’re from around here.”

“No?”

“No. You’re far more….quiet, reserved, than most of the locals. And...you don’t speak Spanish.”

“I can. I just haven’t.”

“Oh. So...where are you from?”

“Japan.”

“Japan? That’s pretty far. What brings you t-... No, wait. Business. That’s all I need to know.”

Oni turned to look at him, smirk evident even with his static faceplate. Owen made to look at him as well, but quickly avoided eye contact. “Will you be staying long?”

“Two months, if all goes well.”

“Oh, that’s quite a while. I suppose we’ll see each other again, then. It seems we do whether we intend to or not.”

“So it would seem.”

“You are, ah, an easy man to find.” He gestured meekly to Oni’s faceplate. “Are...modifications popular in Japan?”

Oni sat up straighter and shrugged. “Depends. Some circles have a lot, others frown upon it. Good ones aren’t cheap.”

“Ah.” Owen turned his head down. “Uhm, speaking of…” He drew a small chip from the bag he’d been carrying and slid it back to the omnic next to him. “Thank you, again. For the mechanic, in this case. There was….quite a bit left over.”

Oni shook his head and waved him off. “Keep it.”

Owen looked taken aback. “Wh-what? Oh, n-no, no, I can’t do that.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back in no time.”

“But...I owe you so much already....”

Oni turned, tilting his head at him. “Kid, relax. You don’t owe me anything.”

Owen shifted as though he was going to protest, but the look he got from Oni shut him down before he could. “I….I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, either.” Oni gave the omnic a cursory once-over. Most of the dents had been popped, though the scuffs and scratches were still there, and the antenna on his head was still bent. He’d intentionally turned down some repairs, presumably for the sake of spending less of Oni’s money. He nodded toward him once. “Use it to get the rest of that fixed.”

“Mmmh…” Owen shrugged and looked away. “There isn’t much point, really. It’s all cosmetic, and if I get it all buffed out or something, it’ll just make them do it again even quicker. I’d rather not draw more attention if I can help it. It’s not a big deal.”

Oni watched him for a moment, but decided not to comment further. Owen checked the clock and slid out of his seat. “I should head back, before it gets too late and Tía gets mad at me again. I know I said it already, but-”

“Three times.”

“Eheh…thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Be safe.”

Oni bowed his head, and was surprised to see Owen return the gesture. Not at quite the right angle, but the sentiment was appreciated. 

He watched the omnic trot down the street and disappear behind the alley, paid his tab, and make his way toward the hotel, roses held at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, pink or peach roses are traditionally given as a sign of gratitude.
> 
> If you want to get a hold of me or see my artwork, you can find me here:  
> http://spartadog.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the dog is fine.

Stupid fucking animals. Oni leaned back in his seat, his right arm stretched across the workbench, palm turned up. The mechanic picked at the frayed wires and punctured workings in his wrist. Daisuke stood behind him, watching the young woman’s hands at work, occasionally leaning over to make sure she didn’t tamper with anything. Paranoid, maybe, but better safe than sorry.

Oni tried to look at everything but what she was doing, but the shop was full of nothing more than car parts. Not terribly comforting. Stupid _fucking animals_.

She stopped suddenly, looking up at him. “You need to relax. Don’t make me take it off.”

Daisuke arched a brow at her, but she ignored it. Oni looked down at the arm she was working on; he hadn’t realized it, but he’d curled it into a tight fist. He took a deep if artificial breath, letting some steam pour out of the vents under his faceplate.

Daisuke patted his shoulder with a teasing smirk. “Relax, Oni-chan. Just a wittle boo-boo.”

Oni growled, the threat empty. “Don’t call me that.”

The other man laughed but didn’t take it back. “They gotcha good, huh?”

“They didn’t get me. They made an idiotic mistake and were not punished for it.”

“Well, the dog got you.”

There was a pause. “Okay, yes, the dog got me.”

\-------------------------------

It had been a standard procedure meeting. Ichiro had Nakada-sama’s personal assistant on holo call, discussing travel arrangements with both the scouting group and the Los Muertos leaders. This time, it was held in one of their hideouts. On the positive side, it meant Oni got to stand guard while listening in on the meeting itself. On the other hand, so did all of Los Muertos.

It also meant Oni was fairly on-edge through most of the meeting. He’d already had to stop several people from spilling something on Ichiro, or dropping something on the holo communicator, or falling face-first into the back of Ichiro’s chair.

Okay, maybe he didn’t stop that one.

For the most part, it had been mostly harmless incidents, more an annoying lack of respect than any serious threat. Still, Oni kept diligent watch of everyone within eyesight. If anyone wanted to take out a large chunk of Los Muertos (who he was sure had made _many_ enemies) and their important-looking foreign visitors, now would be the perfect opportunity.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Somewhere at the back of his processor, he knew this was a dangerous place for him to be. It was one thing for his teammates to halt half a dozen low-lifes in the middle of an empty street. In here, with at least a hundred other men… Oni knew he was walking on thin ice. If the Los Muertos boss decided not to stop his underlings, there would be nothing he, Ichiro, or anyone else could do to stop them.

He barely finished the thought when there was a sudden commotion near the entrance. Everyone’s eyes darted toward the sound, but no one could find the source. Until the crowd parted and massive white thing was barreling toward them. Toward _him. At him_.

Oni reached for his gun, but he wasn’t fast enough. The dog had wrapped its jaws around his forearm and bore down hard. The plating around his wrist cracked; he heard it before he felt it, but oh, he _felt_ it. He stifled what would have been a sharp cry of pain, because if there was one thing he was not going to do, it was show weakness in front of this group of scum. 

The dog tugged and shook and threw his weight at and away from Oni, trying to tear into him as much as possible. Daisuke, Masato and the others had their weapons drawn, but couldn’t get a clear shot at the dog. Ichiro did not move from his seat, but gave the men across the table a very unimpressed look. They made no move to stop anything. No one did.

Oni could hear Los Muertos cackling and cheering around him, and it made something burn within him. He struggled with the dog for a moment, trying to angle it so one of his colleagues could get a shot in. It became pretty clear very quickly that the dog had to at least weigh as much as him, if not more, and that he wasn’t going to make it move anywhere it didn’t want to go.

He growled loudly, anger boiling hotter and hotter. He lifted his arm, hauling the dog up onto its hind legs, and jabbed a knee up into its abdomen, hoping to knock it off balance. It worked, and Oni threw his weight down on top of the dog, slamming it to the floor. The dog still gnawing at his forearm, Oni had to admit he admired its tenacity, Oni forced its head to the floor, his legs pinning the dog’s at its sides. He whipped his gun out with his free hand. If there was one thing he’d learned from humans, it was that they will do anything for a dog.

The muzzle of the gun fell between the dog’s eyes; the dog continued mauling his arm as though it hadn’t noticed. Oni raised his voice, the call loud and demanding enough to be heard over all the laughter and cheering. “Call it off before _I_ do!”

The laughter died down, but didn’t stop. Clearly some of them were more interested in ending his life than sparing the dog’s. The dog’s handler, at least, seemed to care, and whistled. The dog released Oni’s arm without hesitation and scrambled to its feet. It stood in front of him, barking loudly and wagging its tail. Oni stood and brushed himself off. The sensors in his arm were on fire, and he could feel oil and power fluid dripping down to his palm.

The man sitting across from Ichiro leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Ey, Chico, aquí.”

The dog silenced and darted over to him. He patted his lap and the dog placed his front paws on it, still wagging his tail. Oni could see blue and black stains around the dog’s mouth. The man threw an arm over the dog’s back and patted his ribs proudly. “Apologies, my friends. This is Chico. We train the dogs to go after those things. We like the white ones because the oil shows up nicely.” He waved the dog off and the handler whistled. The dog followed obediently and the handler led him out of the room. “He gets a little excited, sometimes.”

Ichiro’s displeasure was plain on his face. He didn’t answer the Los Muertos leader, instead turning to Daisuke. “Take him to a mechanic.”

Daisuke bowed and headed for the exit, Oni doing the same a moment behind. He held his head high and his gun at his side, just in case. Los Muertos cleared a path for them, but didn’t bother to hide their grins. A few impersonated dogs as they passed. Stupid fucking _animals_.

\-------------------------------

“There you go, good as new.” The mechanic patted his arm and stood, already putting her tools away. Oni lifted his arm off the table and flexed his fingers. Sure enough, they felt smoother than they had in years. He’d have to remember this place for future repairs while he was here. If relations with Los Muertos didn’t improve soon, he was sure he’d need more before long.

The bell hanging from the door at the front of the shop jingled. The mechanic called out without looking back, “Evening, Owen. Take this gentleman’s seat.”

Oni looked up. Sure enough, there was the omnic he kept running into, looking back down at him with just as much surprise. He stood and shoved his arm back into his sleeve, then slid the chair toward Owen and gestured to it politely.

Owen snapped out of his shock and took the seat. “O-oh, thank you, Mr. Oni. I didn’t expect to see you here. Is everything alright?”

Daisuke lifted a brow at the omnic. Oni shook his head. “Fixed now. We were just leaving.”

Daisuke tsked and waved a finger at him. “Uh uh, you gotta cool down, man. Take the day off, Oni-chan. I’ll tell the boss it was mechanic’s orders.”

Oni groaned at the nickname but complied. Daisuke beamed. “Have fun!” He gave an unnecessary wave and exited the shop, leaving Oni and Owen to themselves. 

After a moment Owen turned his attention back to Oni. “I'm sorry, I didn't get you in trouble, did I?”

Oni shook his head again and paid for his repair. He took a seat against the wall and crossed his legs, folding his hands neatly in his lap. Owen looked unsure.

A moment passed in silence. Oni finally spoke up, tilting his head and looking at a spot behind Owen. His anger was still simmering and he didn't want to take it out on him. “Dog bit me.”

Owen sat up straighter. “A dog? Like...one of _their_ dogs?” Oni nodded. “W-wow. That's...that's impressive.”

Oni turned his head minutely, and Owen continued. “I mean…those dogs are trained specifically to go after us. They know where all the weak spots are. Most….most omnics who get attacked by one don't survive.”

Oni shifted in his seat. He could only imagine how many omnics had been completely dismantled by that one dog alone. “It was an accident.” A lie. “I put my arm in his mouth before he got something more important.” Another lie. “Handler called him off right away.” And another.

Owen relaxed, but seemed intrigued. “Wow. You're lucky.” He couldn't argue with that. “I guess working with them has its benefits…”

The mechanic interrupted before Oni could correct him. Probably for the best. She sat on the other side of the workbench with a pen and clipboard. “So, Owen. How’s everything running?”

“O-oh.” He turned his attention to her. Oni wondered if he sensed reluctance. “Just fine, as always. Thank you, Maribel.”

She arched a brow at him with a smirk. “Just Mari. I’ll tell you every time you come in, if I have to.” She shook her head. “You know we have to go down the list anyway, torpecito.”

Owen glanced briefly in Oni’s direction, hopefully catching himself before he could notice. Oni noticed. “Ah, right. Of course.”

Mari proceeded to go down the list, reading off every issue that was fixed last time Owen had been in. From the sound of it, there was...considerably more damage than he had let on that night. Fractured and dented plates. Severed wires. Shattered sensors. Several autorepair programs shut down. Oni was amazed he’d managed to stay online as long as he did, and wasn’t sure if he should be more impressed at his endurance or his frankly idiotic stubbornness. He idly wondered if he’d offlined as soon as the florist’s door closed.

Owen nodded at each question. “Yes. Yes. Fine. All fine. No problems. Better than ever.”

Mari checked off the last box and set the clipboard down. She leaned back in her rolling chair and folded her arms over her chest. “Then why are you overheating?”

Owen sat ramrod straight. “Wh-what?”

“You’re overheating.” She held a hand out in front of his chest, not touching him. “Your core temperature feels….like ten degrees warmer than usual.”

“I-I….it’s nothing, really, I…” He caught Mari’s disapproving look and slumped. “I….fell again. My arm’s a little stiff. Programs are trying to repair it so I’m running a little hot. It’s nothing, really. I’ll be back to normal in a few hours.”

Mari rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “Ay, torpecito. What am I gonna do with you. Let me see.” She stepped around the desk and knelt in front of him, turning the chair so Owen’s back faced Oni. He seemed embarrassed nonetheless and covered his face with one hand. Mari popped his chest panel open. She took a brief mental survey of everything she saw, and found a couple of gears bent out of shape. She tapped it with her knuckle and gave him a look. “Your repair _software_ is gonna fix your damaged _hardware_ , huh? I sure hope not or I’ll be out of business in no time. I’ll see if I have any of these in the back. Don’t move.”

As she disappeared into the back room, Oni watched the back of Owen’s head. Now that she’d mentioned it, she was right; he was overheating. He wondered if it was friction from...whatever it was that was damaged. Then he decided it was none of his business.

“Y-you...you don’t have to stay here, you know.”

Oni looked up.

“You don’t have to stay here and wait for me. I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing.”

Oni gave an amused grunt. He was right. Bashing that handler’s face in with a rock sounded pretty appealing right now. “Nothing I’m able to do. Day off, remember?”

Owen turned his head, not quite looking over his shoulder. “No other places you wanted to visit while you’re here?”

Hell no. He’d been here only a week and he’d already had more of Mexico than he’d ever wanted. “Not particularly.”

“That’s a shame. Dorado’s very pretty, and there’s a lot to do here. Though...I suppose it is a little more...err….accessible, to humans.”

Mari reappeared with a cardboard box full of small metal pieces. She drew a handful of gears from it and sat back down in front of Owen again, holding them up to him to match them to the ones in his chest cavity. Pulling a screwdriver from her belt, she tapped it against his shoulder lightly. “Arm down. It’s gonna go limp and I don’t want a concussion.”

She removed the gears, and sure enough, his arm went limp, disconnected from the mechanism used to move it. She screwed the new ones into place and stood, hands on her hips. “Anything else I should know about?”

Owen shamefully shook his head and closed his chest panel with a soft click. Mari smiled and patted his head. “Good. Get going, then. You’re all done.”

The omnic stood eagerly and began digging for a credit chit. Mari swatted a hand at him. “Ah ah. None of that. Go. And be careful. Watch where you’re going, no more falls, understand?”

Owen made to protest, but stopped and nodded. “R-right. I will. Thank you again, Maribel.”

“ _Mari._ ”

Owen left the shop briskly. Oni stood and gave Mari a polite bow, then turned to follow suit. He caught up with Owen easily, and let the omnic glance at him continually. Maybe it was a little cruel, but it was entertaining to see him so...pleasantly nervous. He didn’t let it go on for too long. “Why did you tell her you fell?”

Owen stiffened. “B-...because I fell.”

“No you didn’t.”

Owen rolled the shoulder that had just been repaired. “She….she doesn’t need to know about that. It doesn’t matter how it happens anyway, as long as I get it fixed.”

“Which you almost didn’t.”

“I would have…”

“When your core got too hot for you to walk there.”

Owen stopped short and turned on a dime, cutting Oni off and facing him. “L-look, I….I appreciate your help and your looking out for me, but….I can handle myself. I’ve made it this far. I don’t….I don’t need to be coddled.”

Oni stopped and leaned back slightly, taken aback by the sudden outburst… if you could call the meek little statements an outburst. He held his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Owen’s shoulders slackened. “I’m sorry. I’m just...a little on-edge lately.” He turned and continued walking. Owen followed.

“I know how that is.”

“Trouble at...work?”

“You could say that.”

Owen slowed to a stop before long. “...Are you walking me home again?”

Oni stopped as well, looked at Owen, then down the street, and finally back at Owen. He shrugged. “Do you want me to?”

“...You really don’t have anything better to do?” Oni shrugged again. “I….I mean, if you want to…”

They began again, Owen growing increasingly more uncomfortable. Perhaps he was being cruel again, but Oni wanted to see how long he would go before asking him to leave.

Surprisingly, he made it all the way to the florist without being shooed, and Owen without combusting from nerves. When they reached the door, Owen turned to face him again, keeping his head tilted down. 

“Err, thank you. Again. For walking me home. ...Again.”

Oni slipped his hands into his pockets and tilted his head up slightly. “Don’t mention it. And stay out of trouble. I ain’t always gonna be here.”

Owen nodded. “Right, I will. Thank you. And...sorry I snapped at you.”

Oni waved a hand at him and replaced it in his pocket. “It happens. Be careful.”

Owen nodded, and bowed before Oni could. Oni chuckled. “Straighten your back. Arms at your sides, bend at the waist.” He put a hand on his back to guide him through it. He felt Owen heat up again beneath his hand. “You’re overheating again.”

Owen stood up quickly and almost backed into the door, nodding. “O-oh. Alright, I’ll-...I’ll have that looked at in the morning. She was almost ready to close just now. Thank you.”

Oni tilted his head wryly. “You’d better.” He returned the bow, then turned to head toward the bar, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Toldja.
> 
> If you want to get a hold of me or see my artwork, you can find me here:  
> http://spartadog.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

It was raining. The town was dull and gray, and its inhabitants seemed to follow suit. Most everyone stayed inside, and those that ventured out got from point A to point B as quickly as possible. No children playing in the streets, no friends stopping to meet outside the cafes. Even the stray cats and dogs were huddled up under shelter, nowhere to be seen.

Owen hated the rain. It slowed the town down, but it didn’t stop the work that needed to be done. And that meant tending the outdoor plants and making deliveries out in the rain. The work itself was fine, he never minded that, but trying to wipe all the water out of his inner workings to keep them from rusting was so tedious and time-consuming. 

He hummed to himself in the garden behind the shop, thankfully sheltered from the rain by a folding gazebo, albeit temporarily. He moved down the rows, trimming the dead leaves and flowers off the gladiolus to help them grow. Sharp, familiar laughter drew him from his work. He looked up to see Javier with a group of friends over the fence in the alley next to the shop. He didn’t seem to notice him. Quickly Owen ducked behind the table, processors whirring loudly. He was glad it likely wasn’t audible over the rain. 

Their voices, however, certainly were. They must have just entered the alley, or he surely would have heard them sooner. They were laughing about something, but he couldn’t make out exactly what. He peeked around the table; he could see the backs of their heads, and none of them would see him if he could just stay quiet. Uneasy, he made a break for the opaque fence, pressing himself up against it carefully to get a better listen.

“Hell yeah, man. Fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Yeah, piece of shit deserves it and then some.”

There was a pause.

“What if we gave it to it?”

“What d’you mean, Javi?”

“You know what I mean. It fucked with us enough times and ain’t shit getting done about it. Boss made it pretty clear he’s gonna keep letting it happen.”

“He’s not gonna like it if he finds out, though…”

“If he finds what out? That the filthy foreign scrap metal went crazy and attacked us, and we took it out in self defense?”

A moment of hesitation, and the other men eased into laughter again. He heard a few slaps he assumed were from patting each others’ backs. 

Owen held a hand over his face, a gesture learned from humans. They hadn’t mentioned a name, but Owen was sure there was only one person they could be talking about. He hurried back over to the table and began placing some potted zinnias in a crate.

“So, listen. I’ll stay here, ‘cause if I show up it’s gonna bolt. You guys lure it down here from that bar it hangs out at. Or separate it from its buddies and drag it down here by force.” There was a click of a pump-action shotgun. A dog that Owen hadn’t noticed started barking excitedly.

Owen scrambled to his feet, clamoring with the crate of flowers back into the shop. He rushed past a very confused Tía and Tío, ignoring their calls as he bolted out the door toward the bar. He was relieved to see Los Muertos hadn’t breached out onto the street yet; he could still hear their laughter echoing down the alley, so they couldn’t have left yet. He still had time.

The bar was a few blocks away, and just as Los Muertos had predicted, he could see Oni at the bar through the window. He made a relieved sound and shoved his way through the door, internal mechanisms struggling to adjust to the exertion. Everyone in the cafe looked up in surprise, but Owen ignored them.

“Mr. Oni!” He hurriedly shuffled toward him, but a Japanese man in a suit - where did he come from? - cut him off. Owen shrunk back but leaned around him. “Mr. Oni, I have to-”

“Quiet, omnic! Get back!” Masato shoved him lightly. Owen nearly dropped the crate, but managed to keep his grip, and quieted. 

Oni slid off his seat and put a hand on Masato’s shoulder. “It’s fine, let him talk.” Masato hesitated, giving Oni a look, but took a step back. He stayed there, not trusting Owen. Oni turned his attention back to the other omnic. “What’s the matter?”

Owen set the crate down in relief, then began a mile a minute. “I was outside in the garden tending flowers when I heard Javier and his friends talking in the alley so I hid behind the fence and listened in and they were talking about dragging an omnic into the alley so they could kill them and I heard a gun and a dog and Oni I think they meant you and they said you’d probably be here so I came running because I had to tell you, I didn’t want you to get hurt, so-”

Oni held a hand up. Owen fell silent.

“Javier wants to lure me into an alley and kill me.”

Owen nodded quickly. 

Oni exchanged a look with Masato, then shrugged. “Let them.”

Owen looked dumbfounded. “Wh-what? You can’t just….just _let_ them kill you!”

“No, but I can let them try.” Owen looked confused, so Oni continued. “Let them come for me. I’ll show them who they’re dealing with.”

Owen shook his head and reached for him, but quickly withdrew his hand. “Oni, please. They have a lot of weapons and a dog. Remember what I told you about the dogs!?”

Oni held a hand up again, more to placate him than silence him. “I’ll be fine. Now that I know about it, I can prepare accordingly.’ He rested a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me.”

He squeezed slightly, then turned to Masato, gesturing for him to follow, and left without another word. Owen watched them go, then felt all the staffs’ and customers’ eyes on him. He gathered up the crate and hurried after them.

Once he was outside, he couldn’t see where they’d gone. It took an extra moment to remember that he knew where they would end up. Back to the florist shop. Where his family was. Panic set in as he beelined for home. He barreled through the front door and dropped the crate carelessly onto the counter. Tía and Tío looked up from their conversation. 

Tía shuffled around the counter and put her hands on his arms, concern evident on his face. “Mijo, are you alright?”

Owen shook his head quickly. “No. No, you need to leave. You need to leave right now. Both of you.”

Tía shared a confused look with her husband. “Owen, what are you talking about?”

“Tía, _please_ , Los Muertos are going to start a fight in the alley. I heard guns. You need to leave.”

She sobered immediately. Tío came around to join her, ushering her toward the door, and made to pull Owen with them. “Come, we’ll go to the church. We’ll be safe there.”

Owen planted his feet and pulled his hand away. “No, I have to stay.”

Tía sucked in a breath and pointed a finger. “Oh no, mijo, you are coming with us or we are not leaving! I will _not_ leave you here! Those pendejos are going to have to pry you from my cold, dead hands!”

Owen got to one knee and took Tía’s shoulders in his hands. “Tîa, please, I _have_ to stay. My friend is the one they’re after and I need to stay in case he needs my help. I will be fine. I will stay hidden, I promise. But I cannot protect myself _and_ you. Go to the church and I will find you shortly. Okay?”

She was crying before he finished, but she nodded. Tîo hooked an arm around her and led her outside, looking back over his shoulder. “Be careful, mijo.”

Owen nodded, and they disappeared outside.

\-------------------------------

The rain stopped. Two large men carried a limp body down a sidewalk and stopped at the mouth of an alley. They threw him forward and the body hit the ground with a metallic crash. He groaned, the motors in his limbs agreeing with him, and slowly pushed himself to his feet. One of the men spoke. “He’s clean, boss.”

Oni rolled his shoulders - something clicked unpleasantly when he did - and straightened his suit. The men stood behind him, blocking his escape. At the far end of the alley stood Javier, looking smug with a shotgun resting on his shoulder and a large gray dog on a chain, two more men at his side. The dog was pulling hard enough on the chain to be forced onto its hind feet, and barking incessantly toward Oni, teeth flashing each time.

One of the men shoved Oni forward roughly, and he stumbled. The dog lurched forward in excitement, momentarily knocking Javier off-balance. The man laughed and hauled it back a few steps. Oni straightened himself again and began a slow walk forward, not saying a word. The men behind him followed, enclosing him in a smaller and smaller space.

Once he was one step away from the dog’s jaws, Javier’s lackeys forced Oni to his knees. The dog fell back to all fours, barking and snapping inches in front of his face. Javier laughed and handed the dog’s chain to one of the people next to him, then sauntered over to Oni and crouched in front of him next to the dog.

“Well well well, what brings you here, cabrón?” Oni already wanted to skin that stupid smile off his face. Instead, he said nothing. Javier paused, then grabbed one of Oni’s horns and jerked his head back sharply, raising his voice. “ _Hey!_ I asked you a question, _boy_. You fucking answer me when I speak to you.”

Again, Oni said nothing. Javier’s grin spread. “Fine. Have it your way. Just means I get to put you in your place.” He stood, still holding onto Oni’s horn, and moved to stand next to him. “How you want it? This,” he flipped the gun off his shoulder so it landed pointed in Oni’s lap, “or the dog?”

Silence. The grin spread further.

“Both, huh? Aren’t you a greedy one. You got it.” He stood and walked back over to his friends, pulling the dog back and gathering the chain in his arms. He nodded to the men behind Oni. “Let ‘em go. I like it when they run.”

The men stood aside, Oni got to his feet, and Javier unhooked the chain from the collar. The dog charged full speed at Oni, snarling and barking madly. Oni made no move to flee. The dog finally lunged at him, and Oni was ready for it. He swung a lightning-fast right hook, grabbing the dog by the throat instead of landing the hit, and rammed it into the wall of the alley. The impact alone was enough to knock the dog unconscious. 

Oni dropped it and spun on his heels, ducking between a pair of dumpsters as quickly as he could. He didn’t need to see to know all five of them had their guns on him. Javier laughed darkly, and Oni could hear footsteps approaching. “You fucked yourself now, cabrón.”

He was right on the other side of the dumpster, Oni knew. He could practically see the lifted shotgun pointing at him over the top. The familiar sound of the pump punctuated the statement, but he hadn’t pumped it. Javier looked back to see Daisuke grinning down at him from atop the fence, his own shotgun pointed at him, and Masato with a submachine gun. Javier cursed and turned to fire at them, but it was too late.

The yakuza men opened fire and littered the alley with bullets. Masato tossed a second submachine gun to Oni, who caught it and joined the spray of gunfire. In mere seconds, all five Los Muertos crumpled to the floor, peppered with bullet holes and staring vacantly at the walls or sky.

Oni heard a faint sound from the end of the alley. Masato traded him the submachine gun for the 9mm he usually carried. Oni strode over to Javier’s gasping body. He stood over him and bent down, shaking his head. “Nice try.” He pointed the gun at his forehead and pulled the trigger.

The alley was silent.

Oni looked around at the bodies on the floor. It was a mess, but perhaps that was for the best. No better way to send a message than to write it in thick red ink. A lot of it.

He gestured to Daisuke. “Take care of the dog. I don’t care what you do with it but we can’t let it go and we can’t give it back.” He hopped over the fence into the garden.

The garden was seemingly empty. Just rows of flowers of every shape and color, a few pots broken from stray gunfire. He hurried into the shop through the back door, but the building seemed empty too.

“O-Oni?”

He ducked back outside to find, much to his dismay, Owen huddled in a corner against the fence. He’d hoped the omnic would have been smart enough to leave a long time ago. There were three holes in the wood inches from his head, and several more near his chest. Oni hurried over to him. “Are you alright? Did you get hit?”

Owen shook his head, but made no attempt to move. “N-no, I...I don’t think so…” He looked up at Oni, freezing at the sight of blood splattered across his face and staining his white shirt. 

Oni looked down at himself and let out a soft groan. He stashed the handgun away and held a hand out to Owen. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

Owen didn’t take his hand. “Wh-where….where are Javier and the others?”

“...It’s over.”

“You killed them…”

“Yes.”

There was a long pause, but Owen finally took Oni’s hand and let himself be pulled up. Oni stood back to look him over, giving him a quick scan to check for any damage. He seemed, fortunately, unharmed. “You sure you’re okay?”

Owen nodded, and Oni wasn’t convinced. Daisuke and Masato stepped through the gate, guns slung over their shoulders. Masato nudged Oni, who looked around briefly before turning his attention back to Owen. “Listen, kid. Go inside and find those folks you live with. Do not look in that alley. And if anyone asks, you hid as soon as you heard gunfire. You didn’t see anything, you didn’t hear anything. Do you understand?”

The omnic nodded again. Oni let some steam out from under his faceplate, and nodded as well. He patted Owen on the back gently. “I have to go. Go on, you’ll be okay. And thank you again.”

He waited for Owen to move before giving him a quick bow, and disappearing back into the alley with his colleagues. 

Owen stopped at the back door and looked back. He saw the scarlet puddles on the ground spreading under the slats of the fence, whimpered, and fled toward the church.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual! Got a little carried away but I think it's worth it ;)

In retrospect, he probably should have waited a few days. He should have just stuck near Ichiro, or not left his hotel room at all, and waited. But he didn’t, and he didn’t even really regret it, but he was paying for it.

Oni knelt in Ichiro’s hotel room, the curtains drawn over the window overlooking the city. He rested his hands on the floor in front of them, his forehead nearly touching his knuckles. Masato did the same to his left, and Daisuke to his right. They stayed absolutely still, and said nothing.

Ichiro was pacing in front of them, his voice raised in a long and drawn-out lecture, which Oni, if he was honest, had long since tuned out. He’d already told them that Nakada-sama was apparently thoroughly impressed, and that was enough for Oni. Aside from this lecture, there would be no repercussions from the chain of command. Oni was relieved. He hadn’t thought of that possibility until the incident was over.

The man in question entered the room, surrounded by a posse of bodyguards. Ichiro stopped mid-sentence, turned on his heels, and bowed deeply. The head of one of the yakuza’s smaller but influential families, Nakada Shuichi was a surprisingly unremarkable man. He was shorter than Ichiro and Masato, neither very slim nor muscular, with graying hair cropped short and slicked back. Yet even still he held an unquestionable command over the room.

Nakada returned a smaller bow, and looked over the three underlings on the floor. 

“These are the men in question?” Ichiro bowed again. Nakada looked over them once more, then nodded as well. “You have done well. We will not tolerate any further insolence from these ingrates.”

They spoke in unison. “Thank you, Nakada-sama.”

Nakada turned to Ichiro again. “Mr. Ichiro. We must discuss our next course of action. Our next meeting with Los Muertos will not be a pleasant one. You three, take the night off. My men can handle your duty for a few hours. Go get washed up.”

The three men stood, bowed low, and exited the room silently. The door closed behind them and Oni expelled some steam, a symbolic sigh of relief. 

Nakada-sama had only arrived in Mexico a few hours ago, and received news of the alley massacre upon landing. According to Ichiro, while he was disappointed Oni and the others could not resolve the issue without bloodshed, he was pleased by their ability to handle the confrontation on their own. Finally, he’d said he did not condemn their actions, and that Los Muertos would pay for their transgression. Oni couldn’t wait to see how.

Oni looked down at himself, then at the two men with him. Ichiro had not let them leave, once he was sure none of them had any serious injuries, and thus the three of them were still streaked with blood. The others seemed to notice as well, judging by the expressions on their face.

They all exchanged a silent nod, Oni taking an extra moment to give each of them a grateful pat on the shoulder, and split off to their respective rooms. 

Oni stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long moment, hands bracing himself on the sink. After a moment he shook his head, grabbed the nearest hand towel, and wiped his face clean. Idly he wondered why hotels insisted on white towels, and how much the higher-ups would have to pay to keep the maids quiet when they saw them stained in too much blood.

Next he removed his jacket. It was black, at least, and hid the stains well, but it was damp and his air intakes could sense the particles radiating off it. Any human would be able to smell it on him. He tossed it in the hamper, and his silk black tie into a bag to dry clean when he got home. 

The white shirt, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The collar was more red than white, continuing down his chest to give him a bloody bib. He wouldn’t be able to wash it while he was here; it would raise too many suspicions and he didn’t know what establishments could be trusted, or threatened. He didn’t think there was a stain remover in the world that would restore the shirt after a month and a half of sitting. Shaking his head in disappointment, he dropped the shirt unceremoniously into the fireplace.

Oni moved back to the mirror. He rinsed his hands in the sink, the blood running in little rivulets over the tigers and serpents covering his forearms. He took another towel, those poor maids, and wiped down his shoulders and chest, anywhere the blood had soaked through the shirt to collect on his plating. He cleared what he could from the pistons and wiring in his neck, but decided anything deeper would require a shower at least. He was glad he’d had his systems waterproofed years ago; how he’d do his job without it, he didn’t know.

Once out of the shower, took a look his leather shoes, which would be fine with a quick wipe down, and his black slacks. He dropped the pants into the hamper with the matching suit jacket, then re-clothed himself in a nearly identical outfit. This time, he donned a leather harness over his shoulders, a holstered 9mm pistol tucked under each arm. He covered it all with another pristine black jacket. He tied his tie, and left the room.

\------------------------

Oni glanced in every direction around him. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but still, he couldn’t help but be uneasy. There were so many places someone could hide in plain sight; in one of the windows, somewhere on the cliffside, in a crowd of people. He rolled his shoulders. Left-over adrenaline, no doubt.

He stepped through the door, the bell above him causing him to stop mid-step and look around the shop. There was a tall, thin man behind the counter, with a graying mustache, and the same short woman he’d seen before arranging a bouquet. They both looked at him, so he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Oni held up a hand and cut him off.

“Don’t move.” The omnic turned and drew the curtains in front of the shop. There were none on the side that he could see. Paranoia. He knew it, but it made him feel better. He turned back to the couple, who were giving him confused and uneasy looks. “...Is Owen here? I need to speak with him.”

They exchanged a look, and the woman was the first to speak, setting down the bouquet and moving around the counter. She folded her arms. “You’re his friend, right?”

Oni drew his head back. “Uhh…”

 

She didn’t wait for clarification. “He told me what you did for him. With Los Muertos. I am thankful to you for that, but I don’t like it. I don’t like my boy hanging around with you. You get him into trouble.”

Oni stood still, unsure of what to say. He felt like he should be insulted that she thought so little of him, but he couldn’t help but be touched that she was so concerned for Owen instead. “I...I have no intention of getting him into trouble, I assure you.”

She shook her head and wagged a finger at him. “Ah ah, no no no. You protect him from Los Muertos once, but you’re with those other ones, the scary ones in the suits. I don’t know what you do but you’re with Los Muertos all the time so you must be just as bad as them! That was you they were after in the alley, wasn’t it? Poor mijo was so scared, and us too! We had to go to the church and he wouldn’t come with us! I had no idea if he was hurt or worse! You did that to him!”

Oni lifted both hands, palms out. “Madam, please, if you’d prefer I leave…”

The bell rang.

Oni looked over his shoulder to see Owen standing in the door with an empty crate, looking surprised. The woman’s scowl was replaced with a smile in record time. “Mijo! Welcome home.”

“...Hi, Tía.” He turned his attention to Oni as he closed the door behind him. “Oni. Why were you leaving?”

“Hey, kid, I uh…” Oni gave Tía a lingering look, and got an expectant one in return. He turned back to him, not willing to be deterred. Not yet. “I was hoping I could speak to you.” He hesitated. “Alone.”

Tía looked a strange mixture of horrified and furious. Tío put a hand behind her back and ushered her upstairs, whispering to her too quietly for Oni’s translator to pick up. He didn’t care.

Owen, on the other hand, looked shocked and somewhat uneasy. Oni had to wonder what sort of possibilities were going through his processor. “O-oh, uhm…sure. Do you mind if I work while we talk?”

Oni shook his head and gestured toward the counter, letting Owen past him. “Not at all.”

Owen began to finish the bouquet, adding white carnations to the already gathered lilac and pink rosebuds. Oni dug his hands into his pockets, shifting on his feet and letting his gaze wander around the room, now that he had the opportunity. The walls behind the counter were lined with containers of flowers, some loose and others pre-arranged in bouquets or wreaths. There were potted plants in every corner of the room and then some, making it seem smaller than it really was. Oni suspected if he was human, the aroma would have been overpowering.

“So...what did you want to talk to me about?”

Oni snapped his head back to Oni, then tilted it down and took half a step closer. “I...mostly just wanted to check in, make sure you really were alright. If you need a mechanic, I can-”

Owen shook his head. “No, I’m fine, really. Not even a scratch.”

Oni nodded. “I’m glad. I also...wanted to thank you. More genuinely, now that my life isn’t on the line.”

Owen’s hands stopped, and he looked at him. His faceplate was static, but Oni could feel the smile nonetheless. “Those _were from you_ , weren’t they?”

Oni tilted his head slightly. Owen chuckled. “The pink roses. Tía made them and gave them to me, but she wouldn’t tell me who they were from. I knew, though. I _knew_ it!” He laughed and continued working, but kept his attention on Oni.

Oni’s shoulders slackened and he lifted his head, nodding slightly. “I figured if we’re going to be trading favors, may as well make it even across the board.”

Owen giggled again. “Well, you didn’t have to do that. I was happy to help. I would have even if you hadn’t helped me.”

“First of all, kid, no you wouldn’t.” Oni took a few steps closer until he was just on the other side of the counter. He leaned back and tilted his head, hands still in his pockets. “You’d have been smart and stayed far, _far_ away from any of this, and when you heard them talking in the alley, you’d have gone to the church with your family.”

“W-well…”

Oni continued before he could say more. “Second of all, even if you did, all the more reason to thank you.”

Owen let out an awkward laugh and looked back down at the bouquet. Oni watched him. His hands were moving, adjusting flowers here and there, tightening the tie, but he was pretty sure the bouquet was finished. He turned his head, looking up the first part of the stairwell. “So, you live here?”

Owen seemed relieved for the subject change. “Oh, yes.”

“How’d you end up with them?” He nodded to the stairs.

“Oh, a few years ago I was looking for a job. They needed an assistant and hired me. A few months later they found out I’d been getting targeted on the street, so they offered me a place to stay. Less likely to get attacked between jobs if I’m not outside, y’know?” He placed the bouquet in a clear purple vase and tied a white ribbon around the neck, then set it in the refrigerator behind the counter. 

Oni nodded, not looking away from the stairs. “They seem to really care about you.”

“They do.”

“That’s good. Don’t take it for granted. Hard to come by.”

‘Trust me, I know.”

There was a silence for a long moment, and Owen was the first to break it.

“Do you like flowers, Mr. Oni?”

“I do, actually.” Owen perked up, genuinely surprised. “They are symbols, in Japan. Not just used to look pretty or flatter women.”

“That’s interesting. They used to have meanings on this side of the world as well, but hardly anyone remembers any of them.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Oh, my, there are so many…” Owen looked around the walls, as though seeing one would decide for him. It seemed to have worked, as he jumped suddenly and hurried to the wall of loose flowers. He drew from it a single long-stem rose. “This one.”

Owen tooked it and looked it over. It was a full, heavy bloom, larger than his palm, with pastel yellow petals dusted in a striking hot pink around the edges. Oni couldn’t help but feel that it suited Owen, somehow always bright and happy. He handed it back to him. “It’s beautiful.”

Owen took it and slid it back into place on the wall. “It’s called a Dream Come True rose. It’s a hybrid, really. They started breeding them about seventy years ago.”

Oni finally removed his hands from his pockets, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning against them. His attention lingered a moment longer on the rose. He wondered if he shouldn’t have told Tía to make him a bouquet of those instead. Surely she would have known his favorite flower.

“How about you?”

Oni looked up at him again. Owen had his back to him, organizing some arrangements on the back shelves. He took the silence to mean he hadn’t heard, and repeated himself. “Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Peonies.”

Owen stopped and looked over his shoulder, surprised just by how quickly Oni answered. Just as fast, he turned back to his work. “Peonies are nice. Why them?”

“Back home it’s a symbol for honor and bravery. King of the flowers.”

“Really? That’s fascinating. Here they mean quite the opposite. Beauty, feminity, shyness.”

“I like mine better.”

Owen chuckled and turned back around to face him, held up a single finger, and disappeared around the back. He returned a moment later with a full watering can, coming around the other side of the counter to water the plants around the shop. “So what other kinds do you like?”

Oni turned with him, leaning back on the counter with his elbows and watching Owen move about the room. “I don’t know very many others.”

“Well, generically speaking. Big ones? Small ones? What color? Stuff like that.”

Oni shrugged. “Bigger ones, mostly. Red and yellow. Sometimes purple.”

“So you like the really bold, striking ones.”

Oni hesitated, a smirk in his voice. “What are you up to?”

Owen stood to look at him, shrugged as well and continued watering. “Nothing, really. I’m just….trying to get to know you, I guess. Do you want me to stop?”

He hesitated again, slightly confused but admittedly curious. “No, it’s fine. Just...not used to it I guess.”

“I imagine people aren’t often eager to talk to the scary-looking omnic with the suit and the devil horns.”

Oni couldn’t help but bark a laugh, which he thought might have spooked Owen slightly. “No, not exactly.”

The smile was clear in Owen’s voice, even with his back turned. “Well, if you ask me, they’re missing out. In my experience, anyway. You seem like a perfectly nice, friendly, scary-looking omnic with a suit and devil horns.”

“You haven’t spent enough time with me to make that assessment.” Oni was careful to keep his tone light and playful, not wanting to scare Owen off just yet.

“Well then.” He didn’t seem dissuaded. “I suppose we’ll just have to change that, won’t we.”

There was a long pause. He’d caught Oni off-guard. He pushed off the counter and replaced his hands in his pockets. He shifted his weight, looking down at his shoes and toeing the tile. “Uh...speaking of…” Owen stopped watering to look up at him. Oni faltered. “Are….are you sure you’re okay? I mean, I know you’re not hurt, but are you okay?”

Owen hesitated, then straightened and set the watering can down. “Well…I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little...shaken, I suppose.” A small laugh. “And I’m not a very good liar. But...really I think I’m just glad you’re okay, and Tía and Tío are safe.”

Oni got the distinct impression he wasn’t being totally forthcoming. He was right, he wasn’t a very good liar. Still, he decided not to push too hard. Owen would tell him what he was comfortable telling. Now came the hard part. “That’s….good. So….listen, kid. I...I think it might be best if I...y’know, lay low for a while. I don’t want to risk leading them here while tempers are running hot. Can’t have you or those nice people you live with getting hurt because they saw me talking to you.”

Owen looked at him for a long moment, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you saying this because of Tía?”

Oni couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh, only partly. She’s right, I am dangerous to be around.”

Owen shook his head and waved a hand at him. “Don’t. I mean...do what you have to do to stay safe, or….or if _you_ want to keep your distance. But don’t do it for our sake. We’ve dealt with Los Muertos my entire life up until now, and we can keep dealing with them.”

Oni let out an exasperated puff of steam. “Well, either way, I do need a few days at least in case they try to take a hit out on me in public or something.” He noticed Owen’s stance grow uncomfortable. “Okay, well...I’ve said everything I came to say. Is there anything _you_ want to talk about?”

Owen stiffened, glancing around briefly as though Oni might be talking to someone else. “M-me?”

“Yeah. Anything you wanna say to me? Ask me? Anything?”

Owen paused and looked down at the floor, apparently genuinely mulling it over. “I....I don’t think so. Not right now, anyway. I’d rather save it so we have something to talk about when this all blows over.”

Oni laughed and nodded. “Sounds good. In that case, I’d better get back to my hotel before someone finds out I’m here. Be careful and keep your eye out, okay? No taking shortcuts down dark alleys. Is it alright to leave out the back?”

Owen giggled and nodded, passing him to head toward the back. He stopped just inside the back door and turned back to face Oni again. He lowered his voice and turned his head down, unable to make eye contact. “U-uhm….actually...before you go...there is something I’d like to ask you.”

Oni stopped and tilted his head, interest piqued. 

Owen drew his shoulders up, hands fidgeting in front of him. “I uh….can….can I get your number?”

Oni gave a genuine laugh and pulled out his personal phone. “Sure, kid.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter chapter, sorry about that! Not to worry though, the next chap is much fuller.

Several days passed without Owen showing up. At least he’d been smart about that. Oni hadn’t left his hotel room any more than necessary, or the hotel itself at all, so he supposed it would have been difficult to run into him. He could have done the stupid thing and tried to find what hotel, and then what room, but he decided to give Owen the benefit of the doubt.

Los Muertos were not happy. Apparently someone in the neighboring houses had seen the latter half of the conflict and reported directly to Los Muertos’ bosses. One of them, Ramón García, had demanded a one-on-one meeting with Nakada. Nakada obliged in the interest of reaching a civil resolution. From what they were told, García not only expected Oni to be deactivated for his crime, but insisted that Los Muertos be allowed to do it themselves as revenge for Javier and his friends. When Nakada refused, García was furious. Supposedly there were threats made against Nakada’s life, but his underlings seemed less than willing to follow through. For all their bravado and posturing, they were hesitant to deal with the consequences of killing a high-ranking member of the yakuza.

Oni, as well as Daisuke and Masato, had been excluded from all of the meetings since the incident. Masato seemed disquieted by that, but Oni and Daisuke figured they would make the best of it. They sat together on the couch in Oni’s hotel room, Masato quiet in the armchair next to them, telling stories of their early yakuza days with a glass of strong liquor in hand. Oni of the time he tried to strongarm a restaurant owner by himself, only to be chased out by the man’s mother with a frying pan (Ichiro just laughed when he heard, called it a lesson learned); Daisuke of the time he tried to sneak around the back of a nightclub to corner a target, and blew his cover because he was attacked by a raccoon in the alley.

Ichiro entered the room and their laughter ceased instantly. Ichiro closed the door, poured himself a drink, and sat in the armchair opposite Masato. He sat in silence, and the other three exchanged concerned glances. Daisuke leaned forward slightly.

“...Boss?”

Ichiro lifted a hand to silence him. He took another moment, then finally spoke. “Nakada-sama met with the other Los Muertos leaders. Things will not be smooth from here on out.’

“What happened?”

“They did not threaten him as García did.” He took a sip of the rum, winced, and set it back down. “But they are in agreement that Oni deserves death. They believe he murdered their friends in cold blood.” Oni sat up angrily, but Ichiro lifted a hand again and continued. “I know. But we have no proof, aside from the word of a single omnic, who was a repeat victim of the same group of anti-omnic street gangsters.”

Oni sat his drink down for fear of shattering the glass in his hand. He exhaled some steam and leaned back, his tone dark. “We can’t involve him.”

Ichiro shook his head. “They would not believe it anyway.”

There was silence for a moment, the gravity of the situation sobering them. Oni kept his eyes on the coffee table in front of him. “So, what now? What did they decide?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Nakada-sama refuses to reprimand you.”

“Then what happens now?”

“Nothing, for now. I suggested sending you home, for your own safety. He thinks it will come off as cowardly, and they would likely take their anger out on the rest of us instead. So for the time being, things continue as usual...though I suspect your presence will no longer be tolerated.”

Masato tapped his fingers against the glass in his lap, which he hadn’t touched. “What of the deal?”

“I don’t know yet, but...I do not believe there will be a deal.”

“What do you mean? Is Nakada-sama going to pull out?”

Ichiro shook his head. “No. He considers the remoteness of the harbor here to be too valuable to pass up over an inane squabble. I fear we may be headed for war.”

The words fell on them like a heavy sandbag. They were used to conflicts with smaller gangs back home, but never without the home advantage, never with such little easy access to resources, allies, established territory… The yakuza could of course send more men and weapons if it escalated to that point, but Oni couldn’t help but think of how many of them would be killed waiting for reinforcements to arrive. They wouldn’t be able to stay holed up in the hotel for long; Los Muertos already knew where they were staying, so it would only be a matter of time before they shot it up or bombed it, in the event of a conflict.

Which led Oni to wonder what would happen to the civilian population. Aside from the insufferable vermin infestation, he’d come to appreciate Dorado’s appeal. Its people had been respectful and hospitable, if wary, for the most part, the views were spectacular, and even the culture had its charms. He shuddered to think of the effect an all-out international gang war would have on such a beautiful place, on innocent people. The stolen livelihoods, the ravaged homes, the inevitable body count, the countless youths who would turn to Los Muertos in fear and anger, and be indoctrinated into their ranks. The yakuza had never been saints, but there was order, and an understanding of respect. Los Muertos would not do Dorado the same courtesy.

They sat in silence, unable to do anything but wait.

\------------------------

Oni gave the three men a bow and a goodnight, and closed the door behind them. He dropped back into his seat on the couch, steam pouring slowly out from behind his faceplate rather than the singular huff he usually gave, and tilted his head back. After a moment, he leaned forward to pour another shot of oil and tipped it back down the opening in his throat.

He set it down and stopped, hand not releasing the glass. The pink roses, now long wilted, still sat in their simple vase across the room. Oni leaned back against the back of the couch, not taking his eyes off them.

Now that his colleagues were absent, he allowed his mind to wander a little further. Since their last meeting, he found it wandering to that perplexing little omnic more and more. He hadn’t expected a civilian to be so friendly toward him, whether he’d saved his life or not. Even that was debatable; Los Muertos had attacked him and let him live several times before, so who was to say that would have been the time they didn’t? Oni expected polite gratitude, even the roses were a nice touch, but to actively seek him out, even if it meant putting his own life at risk? That was strange behavior.

The previous conversation returned to him and soured his thoughts. What would happen to Owen if a war broke out? To the shop, to his family? What would Los Muertos do to him now, if they knew he was involved? Oni had already considered cutting off communication with Owen for his protection, several times in fact, but in the end he’d decided that would do more harm than good. Los Muertos didn’t attack him because he knew Oni, they attacked him because he was an omnic, and Oni was, apparently, the only person willing and able to come to his defense. That wouldn’t stop if Oni left, and now that Owen had gotten himself involved, the risk was even greater. Oni groaned low and ran an exasperated hand over his face.

As if on cue, his phone dinged.

He picked it up. Sure enough, there was a text message from “Kid”. Oni had insisted that they use nicknames for their contacts when they traded numbers, in case their phones ended up in the wrong hands. He wondered as he unlocked the phone what name Owen had given him.

“Are you off duty?” the message read...in binary. If Oni could smile, he would have. Smart kid. He replied in kind.

“Technically, no.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

“I’m free though.”

There was a slight pause before the next message.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can’t leave my hotel room yet. If they need me I gotta go, but right now they don’t need me.”

“Okay. That’s good?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Not really, but better to not let the kid worry. “Something up?”

“No, not really. Just figured I got your number, may as well use it.”

“Ain’t it past your bedtime kid?”

“Yes. But I also wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Oni tilted his head, not sure if he was amused or confused. It hardly seemed like a question Owen of all people should be asking.

“That I’m okay? You were the one who could have been traumatized.”

“And that’s why I’m talking to you past my bedtime.”

Oni sighed and shook his head. So Owen treated his mental health the same way he did physical. He was consistent, Oni had to give him that.

“I asked if you were okay.”

“I know. Sorry. Harder in person and all that.”

“You need to talk?”

“You don’t have to do that. I can find someone.”

He got the impression there was no one else. Oni suddenly started wondering why he even offered. He’d met Owen exactly four times over the course of a month. Granted, it was under extenuating circumstance, but still. And yet he found himself still willing to follow through. In fact, he was ready to insist upon it.

“Kid…”

It was almost a full minute before he got a message back.

“Okay, you’re right. Not now though.”

“Tomorrow night. Earlier.”

“Deal.”

Oni shook his head and poured himself another glass. The phone went off again before he finished.

“So how are things on your end? As much as you’re allowed to tell me, anyway.”

Oni stopped, trying to figure out exactly how much he actually was allowed to say.

“Well, Los Muertos is blaming it on me. They want my boss to let them execute me. That’s really all I can say.”

There was a much longer pause this time. Oni realized what that must sound like, after saying he’d been confined to his hotel room.

“He said no, by the way.”

The response was immediate.

“Oh thank goodness.”

Oni could practically feel the sigh of relief through the phone.

“Everything’s fine, kid. Relax.”

“I’m glad. Would hate to lose the first friend I’ve made in years so fast.”

There was a second message before Oni could even start typing a response.

“Uhm, if it’s okay to call you that.”

Oni chuckled. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find Owen's shyness endearing, even more so when he managed to say what he wanted to say despite it.

“Sure, kid.”

“I’m not that young, you know.”

“Oh really.”

Oni hoped his amusement carried over text.

“I was built eight years ago.”

“Thirteen. Kid.”

“Kid it is.”

Oni laughed genuinely. He caught himself, realizing how ridiculous it must have looked, and hoping no one in the adjacent rooms heard him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Have you worked this job your whole life?”

“Most of it. Ten years or so.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s alright. Good money. Has its perks.”

“Like?”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”

He finally downed the shot he’d forgotten about.

“Okay. Anything you don’t like about it?”

Oni sighed. He could tell where this conversation was going, and it wasn’t one he wanted to have right now.

“Let’s save that for tomorrow. We can have a mutual vent session.”

“Hahah. Okay. Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Oni rubbed his faceplate in minor frustration, shaking his head. This little robot was easily the strangest, most perplexing person he'd ever met, and he'd met quite a few in his line of work. He stood and began getting ready to power down for the night. He was fairly certain that tomorrow would require a full charge.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day dragged. Oni could do nothing but sit around the hotel, watching holovids, drinking, and counting the ceiling tiles. He supposed he could have texted Owen again, but he figured he was probably busy with work for most of the day. 

Daisuke and Masato had come to keep him company once or twice. They’d been allowed back to work in the morning, since despite insisting that they actively took part in killing Javier, Los Muertos seemed to have agreed to tolerate their presence. Oni did not get the same treatment. Racist fucks. Still, he appreciated the effort his friends made.

By the time the sun went down, he hadn’t figured out if time was crawling because he was dreading the inevitably awkward conversation, or...if he was actually eager to talk to Owen again. He let a few more hours roll by, as much as he didn’t want to, in case the little busy bee was working late. 

Finally, around eight o’clock, he sent the first message. The shop had to be closed by now.

 

“Hey kid.”

No answer. Maybe not. He changed the channel from some nature documentary to the news. If nothing else he could do to know what was going on nearby, so he could be prepared when (not if) he went back to work.

There was a brief mention of the alley massacre. By no means a headliner. Oni wasn’t surprised. Gang violence was so common that they rarely ever made front page news. The story didn’t even mention that it had been the yakuza who did it,  and it wasn't like the yakuza had tried to hide their involvement either. The reporter listed the names of three of the dead, and said that the remaining three had yet to be identified. Oni suspected Los Muertos had bought their anonymity. Regardless, he was glad they’d managed to keep the coverage fairly minimal.

Immediately following were the usual filler stories. Some stuck-up rich people complaining about wind turbines being built several miles offshore because it “obstructed their view” of the ocean from their veranda. A nine-year-old girl starting her own charity to help victims of the second crisis and veterans of the first. A golden retriever who became a local hero by fetching his incapacitated owner’s seizure medication from the house when she had an episode on a walk. Nothing particularly interesting to him.

He poured himself another drink to pass the time a little easier. He stopped suddenly to look up at the anchor on the screen. An omnic had been found abandoned on a street in the heart of Dorado, riddled with bullet holes and their head and chest caved in. None of their parts were missing. This was not a desperate scrapper looking for parts to sell. This was a hate crime. The camera panned to the scene where they’d found the body, now long removed; a fresh neon green “Los Muertos” tag glared at him from the wall.

Oni’s engine began running a little faster, a little hotter, in his chest. They didn’t mention the omnic’s name, where they were from, or what model they were, or really anything about them. Normally it would have made Oni angry to hear the omnic’s story told like they were vandalized property rather than the victim of murder, but he had bigger things to worry about. 

As if on cue, his phone finally went off.

 

“Hey, sorry. Overtime. Everything okay?”

 

Oni groaned and fell back heavily in his seat. He fought the  _ very  _ strong urge to drown the kid in questions or yell at him for not doing anything wrong. He downed the shot of oil and waited for it to kick in. Within a few minutes, he was back to normal.

 

“ Yeah. We got a date don’t we?”

 

The response was delayed. Oni smirked inwardly and wondered how flustered his word choice made Owen.

 

“I guess we do. Can I ask a favor though?”

“Depends what it is and how much you got.”

“Very funny. Can we do this in person?”

 

Oni paused, wondering what his motives could be, and whether it was possible. 

 

“Thought in person was harder?”

“It is, but...this feels like something that should be done in person.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Is it not safe?”

“Maybe. We don’t know if Los Muertos are planning to attack me again.”

“They won’t tonight.”

 

Oni sat up slightly. 

 

“How do you know?”

“Because we worked overtime to finish the flower arrangements for a five-person funeral.”

 

Oni stared at the screen for a moment. Why would Los Muertos hire a florist who had recently been the target of their attack? Was it a subtle threat to Owen and his family? Did they know he tipped Oni off? Or did they just genuinely not know Owen worked there?

He groaned and rolled his head back, shaking it.

 

“I’ll send someone to get you. Bring flowers and a small stack of money, largest bill on the outside. You’re going to give it to him to protect you. You’ll get it back.”

 

Oni could practically hear Owen scrambling to collect a fake flower delivery. He shook his head again and sent a message to Masato. Masato agreed to the favor without question. He wondered how he’d have to repay that favor in the future. Within an hour, he received another message from his colleague telling him the flowers were ready in Conference Room A. 

Oni pulled on a plain white tank top, meant to be an undershirt, and the suspenders hanging loose against his legs up over his shoulders. Opening his suitcase, he removed a pistol, the smallest one he had, and tucked it into the back waistband of his slacks. It wasn’t a holster, but it was better than being unarmed. He scanned the room once, then left for the conference room.

He arrived without meeting anyone in the elevator or hallways, much to his relief. He saw Masato standing outside the door and stopped in front of him, speaking in hushed Japanese. “Any trouble?”

Masato shook his head, digging into his jacket pocket to hand him the wad of cash from Owen. Oni shoved it in his own pocket, nodded, and entered the room.

He found Owen sitting at the head of a rather important-looking table, his feet propped up on it and hands folded behind his head. He saw Oni and scrambled to his feet, nearly falling out of his chair. Oni couldn’t help but start laughing.

“O-oh! Mr. Oni, I...I didn’t know….you were…...uhm…”

Words suddenly seemed to escape him and he ended up just staring at Oni instead. Oni shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at him, gesturing for him to sit back down and taking a seat near him, one empty chair between them. Owen hesitated a moment, then quickly reclaimed his seat as well. There was a basket of flowers on the table, full of several large orange lilies, a dozen or so small blue flowers, and one large pink one that Oni immediately recognized as a peony. Owen slid it toward him. 

“Uhm...Day lilies, blue periwinkle, and a peony, just like you ordered. I-I...I tried to get the red ones, but they wouldn’t have arrived in time. I hope pink is okay...”

Oni stared at the colorful basket for long moment in surprise. He very much expected Owen to show up with a small bouquet of daisies, maybe one of the half-wilted left over pre-made arrangements. He hadn’t expected one so well-made, and certainly not one personalized for him.

“Uh...yeah, yeah, pink is fine. Thank you.” He gazed at it a moment longer, then turned to regard Owen, He was sure to put a smile in his voice as he slid the money he’d taken from Masato back to him.  “And payment, as promised.”

Owen seemed to relax and gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” Oni spun his chair just enough to face Owen directly and leaned against one of the arms. He switched to their native language. Masato wouldn’t mind. “So, now that you’ve bribed me with flattery, what do you want to talk about?”

Owen stiffened and looked down into his lap. “Ah, right. I...I don’t really know where to start.”

“The incident in the alley is bothering you.” Owen nodded. “What about it?”

He took a moment to think before answering. “I...I’ve seen dead things, before. Plenty of times. I’ve been to funerals and seen dead animals on the streets and all that, but…”

“But you’ve never been present when it happens.”

Owen nodded again.

“I ain’t a therapist by any means. Do you want my thoughts, or just an ear to vent to?”

“Well...I was only expecting the latter, but...if you’re willing…”

Oni didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. “Death’s a part of life. It ain’t pleasant, and no one should seek it out, for themselves or anyone else, but sometimes you don’t got a choice. Kill or be killed. And if I gotta kill to protect myself or someone else, kid, I’m gonna do it. And if I have to fight dirty and unfair to make sure it doesn’t happen again, I’ll do that too.”

Owen listened silently, eyes never leaving his lap. When Oni was done, he nodded slightly, taking an extra moment to let it sink in. “I know that. I...I wish they could have had their minds changed instead, but...I can’t say I’ll miss them.”

There was a pause between them. Oni leaned his head on his hand. “You don’t seem satisfied.”

“Well...was...was it really necessary to take it that far?” He fidgeted with his hands.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the people I work for have a reputation to uphold.  _ We  _ have a reputation to uphold. If word got out that someone tried to kill me, and we let the would-be perpetrators get off with their lives, people would doubt us. They’d try to take our territory, and more people would die as a result. It’s brutal, I know, but in my world, if I’m not ruthless, I’ll die.” He softened his voice. “Do you understand?”

Owen mulled the words over again, then nodded. “I think so. But then...why do you do this job?”

This time, Oni was the one to hesitate. He tapped his finger against the end of the chair’s arm, then pushed himself to his feet. Hands in his pockets, he paced slowly around the room. “Well, I joined a long time ago because I had no other options,” he shrugged, “and, I admit, I wanted to be a badass. Too many years getting my ass kicked, I wanted to be the one kicking ass. Now? Well, even if I wanted to leave, it’s not that simple. But I don’t want to leave. This life’s been good to me. I don’t know anything else, and I don’t really have a reason to learn.”

“Breaking the law doesn’t bother you?”

“It ain’t that simple. Nothing ever is.”

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get hurt? Be killed?”

Oni stopped at the far end of the table and shrugged again. “I could be a florist’s assistant, and worry about getting hurt or killed for walking down the street. Or I could be an accountant and worry about getting hit by a bus on the way to work every morning. At least with the life I chose, I can fight back.”

Owen nodded in understanding, but still seemed uncomfortable. Oni could tell he was fidgeting under the table. “Say it, kid.”

Owen looked up. “S-say what?”

“Whatever’s on your mind.”

He looked away, trying to find the words. When he finally spoke, the words were quiet, like he was afraid to say them, and afraid of the answer. “Do...do you enjoy the killing?”

“No.” There was no hesitation.

“No?”

“No, I don’t. I do what I gotta do. I don’t like violence for the sake of violence.”

Yet another long pause, and Owen leaned back in his seat. He kept his eyes down, but his posture loosened. He seemed satisfied.

Oni rested his forearms over the back of the chair at the opposite end of the table. “Feel better?”

A small laugh, a small victory. “A little, yeah. Thanks.”

“I uh...I promised you a mutual thing, but I think we just covered everything I was gonna say.”

Owen finally looked up from his lap. Oni felt himself straighten in response, almost involuntarily. “Well,” Owen began, “I did ask you if there was anything you  _ didn’t  _ like about your job. That’s when you said to save it for now.”

Oni pushed off the chair and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Guess I did.”

Owen leaned forward eagerly, hands folded neatly in his lap. Oni looked at him for a moment, then turned his head down and shook it. “It’s a stressful job. For a moment yesterday, I...I seriously thought my boss was gonna hand me over to them. Glad I was wrong.”

Owen tilted his head. “Why did you think that?”

He began pacing again. “Because that’s how we work. The welfare of the families comes before the welfare of the individual. I’d be expected to sacrifice myself for the good of those above me.”

Owen shrunk back. “That’s horrible…”

Oni shook his head without missing a step. “No, it’s in the job description. I knew what I signed up for, and I would do it if I had to. I just...I thought they’d sacrifice me for the sake of business continuing smoothly. It’s an important deal. I wasn’t expecting my boss to...to…”

“To stand up for you?”

Oni slowed to a stop. “To protect me.”

Oni could hear Owen getting up from his chair and approaching, despite having his back to him. As his steps drew closer, he felt a hand on the back of his arm and turned to face the omnic it belonged to. He could feel the smile radiating off him, and hear it in his voice.

“Well, I’m glad someone does.”

Oni tilted his head in amusement. “What, don’t like being my knight in shining armor?”

Owen giggled and rubbed the side of his face, tilting his head down in embarrassment. “Ah, I uhm….I don’t think I’m really cut out for that job.”

Oni patted the top of Owen’s head with a laugh, then slipped it down to his back to guide him back to their seats. “Okay, you can just be the security alarm then. I’ll get someone else to be the knight.”

He held Owen’s seat for him, then took his own. There was a long moment of surprisingly comfortable silence. Owen was the first to speak again, breaking the quiet with a small giggle. “You know, we went through an awful lot of trouble for such a quick talk.”

Oni tilted his head at him in amusement. “You were the one who asked for it.”   
  
“You were the one who complied.”

Oni laughed softly and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “What’s your point, kid?”

“Why did you? I mean, I thought it was just paranoia-” He caught the look from Oni, “-sorry, caution, but if that were the case you would have just said no. I mean, was there something else you wanted to say to me, or…?”

Oni watched him for a moment. He tried, really tried, to think of something that had been on his mind, something important enough to warrant staging a fake protection deal for a friend to escort Owen halfway across town so they could discuss it face-to-face, but...he couldn’t think of anything. And Owen was right, it wasn’t just paranoia. Caution. Whatever.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Guess you just got that persuasive charm about you.”

Owen caught the teasing smirk in his voice and crossed his arms defensively, though his tone was equally playful. “Uh huh, sure. And you don’t scare any of the children in town. C’mon, I was honest with you, now it’s your turn.”

Oni laughed, but shrugged. “No, really, kid, I’m not hiding anything. You sounded like you really needed to talk, and I get the impression you don’t got a lot of people to talk to, so I made it happen.”

Owen sat staring at him for a moment. “Were…” He trailed off, but a tilt of Oni’s head urged him on, though he softened his voice. “Were you worried about me?”

Oni felt one of his internal processes, he wasn’t sure which, kick into overdrive without warning. He quickly tried to shrug it off, suppressing the feeling. “Guess I was. I’ve saved you, you’ve saved me. Guess I’m invested now. Been hard to come across good people here, and I’d hate to chase off the cute one.”

They both stopped short, Owen not sure he’d heard him correctly, and Oni not sure he’d actually intended to say that. Oni stayed still, keeping his cool, at least externally. His mind was already running a little too fast, reminding him that this was a  _ terrible  _ idea, the actual worst idea he’d had since arriving, and that he’d never hear the end of it if any of his colleagues found out about this, and seriously this was a fucking  _ horrible  _ idea…

Owen, on the other hand, was very clearly  _ not  _ keeping his cool. His fans were whirring conspicuously, antenna falling back nearly flat against his head, and after the initial shock wore off he couldn’t seem to bring his eyes back to Oni.

The gangster chuckled softly, cool as ever, and sat up slightly. “Too far?”

“Ah! Ah, n-no, no. Not...not too far.” Owen pinned his eyes to the table, rubbing the back of his head. Oni thought he might have seen a trace of steam wisping from his head, but he might have imagined it.

He stood and extended a hand to Owen. “I think that’s enough excitement for one night, huh? Let’s get you back.”

Owen took the offered hand - his own fingers twitching slightly, but noticeably - and got to his feet as well. Oni tilted his head at him. “You okay?” 

Owen finally looked up at him again, though it was brief. “Are we going to have to go through this every time we want to - have to - meet face-to-face?” 

He patted his shoulder gently and slid his hand to his back, gently guiding him toward the door. “Relax, kid. I’ll lay low for a few more days, let shit blow over, and then either the deal will have them so preoccupied they won’t have time to deal with me, or my boss will make it  _ explicitly  _ clear that it’s in their best interest not to. Okay?”

They stopped by the door and turned to face each other. The little omnic rolled his shoulders, willing himself to relax, and nodded. “Okay.” He drew his arms up close to his chest, fingers interlocked with each other. “I’d hate to lose the cute one too.”

Oni recoiled very slightly in surprise, but laughed genuinely and shook his head. “Go on, kid. Masato will take you home. Be careful, alright? You know how to find me.” 

Owen gave a small laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, and nodded. “Yeah, I will. You too.”

Oni bowed. “Yes sir.” He opened the door. Owen returned the bow, noticeably better than the last time, and stepped out toward Masato. Oni closed the door again and waited until their voices and footsteps were long out of earshot.

He carried the basket of flowers back to his own room, set them prominently in the center of the coffee table, and shut off the light.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! I've been trying to give myself a one chapter buffer between what's being written and what's posted, and chapter 10 was giving me quite a bit of trouble.
> 
> Hopefully it's worth the wait :)

Oni stood in front of the mirror. He craned his neck as he tied a flawless Windsor knot, part programming, part deeply ingrained routine. It was nice to have one of those again.

He adjusted his jacket and studied his reflection. It was a moment of truth, he knew it. If things didn’t go exactly as planned, down to the letter, there was a very good chance he’d be returning with a few new holes. If he was lucky.

He hated moments of truth.

A puff of steam escaped his faceplate. He couldn’t procrastinate any longer. He shook his head, turned off the bathroom light, and exited the room. The peony sat diligently in a single vase, separated from the long-dead lilies.

Daisuke and Masato greeted him at the elevator. Daisuke threw an arm around him and clapped him on the shoulder. No one said anything; they all knew what could happen.

They made the entire trip in silence. It was half an hour before they arrived at the meeting place. It was a bar, but not the one they had been using previously. This one was further downtown, and required a drive. One thing in particular stood out to Oni.

Omnics were not welcome here.

Oni couldn’t read the Spanish on the signs plastered around the place, but he didn’t need to. If the dirty looks he received weren’t translation enough, the scrapped parts littered around a disembowelled omnic corpse visible through the door to the back room drove the point home rather effectively.

They passed through the nearly empty front room of the bar-turned-chop shop. In the back room they found Nakada seated at a table opposite three Los Muertos bosses. Oni recognized one of the bosses from the first time they set one of their dogs on him. The table was covered in extravagant meals that Oni wouldn’t have expected in a place like this. They’d even gone through the trouble of ordering some traditional Japanese food. None of it had been touched.

Ichiro stood behind Nakada with the other dozen men in suits that made up the boss’s entourage. Oni took careful note of the similarly sized group of Los Muertos standing behind their own bosses as he moved to join Ichiro.

The leader Oni recognized lifted his arms dramatically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “There it is, the guest of honor.”

Oni didn’t respond. Even with the warning glance the middle leader gave the man, Oni didn’t like the feelings he was getting from them.

Nakada spoke next before the tension grew unbearable. “Now then, we are all here. Shall we begin?”

The center boss leaned forward. “Yes, of course. Gentlemen, thank you for coming today. I know tensions are high, but I think we all want to resolve this with as little bloodshed as possible.”

Oni had to admit, he was impressed. He expected some sort of barking accusation accompanied by a string of insults peppered with words his translator wouldn’t recognize. This was by far the most eloquently, rationally, and respectfully he’d heard a Los Muertos member address them during the entirety of their stay. He wondered how much of it was a front.

The man continued. “My name is Santiago Flores. These are my friends and colleagues, Ramón García,” he gestured to the rather angry looking man to his right, “and I understand you have met Señor Diego Pérez already.”

Nakada bowed his head politely. “I am Nakada Shuichi. These are the men who were involved in the incident. Tanaka Daisuke, and Hayashi Masato.” He gestured to each of them, and finally to him. “And this is Oni.”

Flores bowed his head to them as he said their names, with the same respect Nakada had shown Los Muertos, even to Oni. Yet again, he was impressed. If only they could all behave like this.

“A pleasure to meet you all, gentlemen. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances.” He leaned back and gestured briefly around the room. “I feel I must apologize as well for the location. I understand it may be… jarring, to some of you.”

Bullshit. Oni watched Garcia and Perez exchange a smirk and  knew it was a bold-face lie. They deliberately chose to meet in a black market omnic chop shop, presumably as a cheap scare tactic. It wasn’t going to work.

“The location does not matter. Thank you for your hospitality, and this wonderful meal.” Nakada waved a hand over the spread before them. Ever the diplomat.

“Don’t mention it.” Flores steepled his hands together. “Now, what we know for certain is that there was an altercation in the alley. Shots were fired, and six of my men are now dead, while yours have escaped, I assume, unscathed?”

“Not quite.” Ichiro replied. He removed a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his suit and slid it across the table to Flores. He continued as the man opened and read it. “This is a receipt for the work to repair the damage Oni incurred.”

Flores nodded and pocketed the paper. “We will take care of this. I apologize for the inconvenience.” The men at his side looked disgruntled. He took notice and addressed them directly.. “It is only fair. These gentlemen paid for our men’s funerals.”

García and Pérez sighed, but quieted. Flores continued, “The bigger concern here, I’m sure you’ll agree, is what  _ actually  _ happened. What my men have told me is that your omnic - Oni, was it? - lured my men into the alley, and that these two men here, Señores Tanaka and Hayashi, cornered them and opened fire. I understand that Señor García has already spoken to you, and that he was inappropriately aggressive. For that we apologize. As a show of good faith, I arranged this meeting to hear your men’s side of the story.”

Nakada nodded to Ichiro, Ichiro nodded in return, and then both men turned to face the three of them. Oni exchanged a look with both of them as inconspicuously as he could manage.

Masato bowed to Ichiro and Nakada. “I was on my way to the liquor store near the alley.” There were no street cameras in that part of the city. No way to prove that he wasn’t there. “As I was passing, I heard some men talking in the alley. I recognized some of them from our meetings, so I stopped to listen. They didn’t notice me.” No reason to pass suspicion onto anyone else. “I heard them planning to lure an omnic into the alley to kill. They said they were upset that their boss was letting this omnic get away with disrespecting them and causing them trouble. The way they were talking about it, I knew they meant Oni.” Thus far, the only lie was who heard all of this.

García sat up and bared his teeth, opening his mouth to say something. Flores held a hand up to hush him, then gestured for Masato to continue.

“I left to find Oni as soon as possible. I found him in the bar and told him what I’d heard.” They’d been sure to bribe and threaten the bartender and all of the waiters too. If anyone asked them, it was Masato who rushed into the bar that day. “He said-”

Flores silenced him the same way he had García, and gestured to Oni. Oni glanced toward Ichiro, who nodded once. He rolled his shoulders. At least he didn’t have to lie. “I said I’d let them find me and bring me into the alley. I told Masato and Daisuke to hide nearby and gave them my gun. Two of the guys found me and roughed me up a little. I let them. Then they dragged me into the alley. Javier was there with two other guys and a dog. He gave me the choice between blowing my head off with the shotgun, or letting the dog maul me to death.”

Flores lifted his chin and turned his eyes on Pérez. Pérez kept his own eyes pinned on Oni and his arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t answer. He told his friends to let me go so I could run. I think he intended to let the dog attack me and then kill me himself with the gun. But I didn’t run. I knocked the dog out against the wall and hid. Javier came closer to shoot me, and Masato and Daisuke jumped out with guns and opened fire on everyone. Masato gave me my gun back. Most of them were dead, but Javier was still breathing. So I shot the bastard in the forehead.”

Pérez snapped. He snarled wildly and rushed to his feet, nearly leaping over the table at Oni before some of the grunts managed to hold him back. Oni didn’t flinch.

“ _ Vete a la verga culero _ !” Pérez roared at him, straining against the grunts’ grip. The translator didn’t pick it up, but Oni got the gist. “That  _ bastard  _ was my little brother! I’ll fucking  _ end you,  _ you sorry piece of shit!”

Oni took half a step back, ready for the grunts to release him like they had the dog. But they didn’t. Through all the struggling, Oni noticed the sparkle of tears on Pérez’s cheeks. He almost felt guilty. Almost.

Flores gestured to the grunts. “Take him outside. Go get a drink, hermano.” Pérez bellowed out a frustrated sound, but let the men guide him toward the bar. Flores turned back to face the yakuza men. “I apologize. He is still grieving.”

Nakada nodded. “I understand. We are sorry for his loss.”

Oni felt the pointed look directed his way. He exhaled slowly and bowed low. It was forced, and he was glad none of Los Muertos would be able to tell the difference. The yakuza did. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.” He straightened, but kept his head tilted down. “In hindsight my actions were not well advised. Had I the chance I would have reported to my superiors instead.”

García made a skeptical snort, but Flores ignored him. “Thank you. I am glad you’ve seen the error of your ways, omnic.”

It took every wire in his body not to put a bullet in his condescending face.

“Still, we have a problem. Obviously, it is our men’s word against yours. There is no evidence one way or the other. The only witnesses say they only heard the gunshots. They did not see anyone.”

Nakada hummed quietly. “So how do you propose we resolve this?”

García answered this time. “When one of our dogs bites its handler, we beat it so the other dogs know what happens to them if they bite us. If they bite someone important, we kill them.”

Oni noticed the satisfied sneer in the man’s voice. It made him feel sick.

Flores sighed heavily, giving García a warning look, and turning back to face their guests. “Despite my associate’s graphic choice of metaphor, it is not entirely inaccurate.”

Not the words Oni wanted to hear. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. The man continued. “You understand, something must be done. My men are angry, as I am sure you understand. If we do nothing, our men lose faith in us. They will think we will let the robots kill them. They will not trust us, and they will lash out elsewhere. Chaos will ensue.”

“It already has.”

All eyes were on Oni. He crossed his arms. “I’ve been watching the news. Your men have been picking off omnics all over the city. Not only has the number of attacks increased, but the percentage of those attacks that are fatal has as well. They are already lashing out. They don’t trust you.”

Oni saw a flash of something unpleasant in Flores’ eyes, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. “If that is the case, all the more reason to eliminate the problem. If this goes unresolved, they will stay angry, and they will continue to kill, and they will take out their aggression not only on omnics, but on your human friends here.” The group of yakuza exchanged a mix of concerned and incredulous glances. “If we eliminate  _ you _ , our men will be satisfied, and things can go back to normal. If we do not, there will be bloodshed.”

Oni tilted his head back. As much as he hated to admit it, he was probably right. Nakada stood, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Enough.” He raised his voice indignantly. “I will not execute one of my best men because you cannot control yours. Especially not over an incident that _your_ men instigated. If you gentlemen cannot devise an alternative solution, I believe we are done here.”

Flores barely flinched. García’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Nakada, as though he expected Flores to launch over the table and attack Nakada at any moment. But he stayed seated and calm, hands steepled in front of him, and only lowered them several tense seconds after Nakada finished speaking. “I will discuss it with my associates. We will contact you again in five days. In the meantime, your men may return to full duty. I will ensure that mine do not cause them any trouble. Is this agreeable?”

Nakada turned to face the group. Ichiro nodded, first to Nakada, then to the three of them. Nakada nodded as well and faced Flores once again. “Very well. In five days, then.” He bowed. “Thank you again.”

He turned and exited the room swiftly, the rest of the yakuza following. None of them bowed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE sorry for making you wait so long! I was having a lot of trouble with where to take this story, so I was struggling to make any progress. BUT. I think now that we've gotten some new information about Los Muertos, I've got things pretty well planned, and I should be able to put chapters out more regularly.
> 
> Thank you for all your patience!

A loud knock at the door woke him sharply the next morning. Oni looked at the clock next to the bed. Seven in the morning. Too early. He didn’t have anywhere to be for two hours, so no reason for anyone to be knocking now. He sat up in bed and pulled on a loose pair of pants as his systems booted up. 

He answered the door groggily to find Masato standing with a basket of flowers. Oni gave a tired laugh and took it from him, placing it next to the other two he’d received in as many days. Just like the others, there was a white card attached that simply said “Kid”. 

Masato entered the room behind him, closing the door quietly. He stood still, watching Oni for a long moment before finally speaking up. “So are you going to tell us who they’re from?”

Oni looked over his shoulder at him, then turned back and shook his head. “No idea. Must’ve been some of the girls we’ve gotten in the last week or two.”

“And they’re all named Kid.”

“Masato, I call  _ everyone _ kid.”

“And suddenly they’re all taking it to heart, hm?”

Oni stopped and leaned back, sighing with his arms hanging. Masato crossed his arms.

“Oni…”

“Masato…”

Masato sighed this time. He knew from experience how difficult Oni could be in the morning. “Very well. Later, though.”

Oni nodded and waved a hand at him, and Masato disappeared out the door.

The omnic looked down at the flowers. A few high-stalked white jonquils surrounded by tiny white blossoms. It was a surprisingly understated arrangement compared to the bright red tulips, yellow roses, and small purple flowers he couldn’t identify. 

It was a bit much, he had to admit, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing...and a little concerning. He wondered if the kid was clinging to this for some positivity. It had to be stressful to have Los Muertos in and out of the shop all the time, with the funerals going on.

Oni looked down at them a moment longer, then suddenly headed for the bedroom. He stepped out of his pajama pants and instead dressed in his usual outfit. He checked himself in the mirror and exited the room.

The poor kid had to be lonely as hell. Oni got the impression that Owen didn’t have a lot of friends or visitors. As far as he could tell, he only had him, the couple he lived with, and  _ maybe _ Mari the mechanic. People in towns this small seemed to know everyone; countless times each day Oni noticed people, human and omnic alike, stop to talk to friends and neighbors they ran into on the street. Not Owen. The few times he’d seen him out making deliveries, he’d always done his best to keep his head down and avoid being noticed. So far it was working, for better or worse.

It couldn’t hurt to stop in and check up on him. Just a quick stop before work. Walk in, say hi, make sure he’s okay, and leave. After all, they’d had a pretty heavy conversation last time they met, and he’d told Owen the gangs were literally debating his  _ execution _ . It would be cruel to let the kid sit and stew in his worry. Flores had promised his men would no longer be taking action against them, so they would be safe as long as he was there. Of course, that wouldn’t do Owen any good if Los Muertos decided to pay him a visit after Oni left...but a quick stop in would be fine. He could buy a small flower arrangement to send to the funerals if he needed a cover story.

Before he knew it, Oni had arrived at the florist shop. He entered quietly, the bell over the door the only sound to announce his presence. Immediately, he second-guessed his decision to come here.

“No! No, no,  _ no _ ! Vayase! Usted tiene que irse  _ ahora! _ ”

Before he made made it past the welcome mat, Tia was in front of him, pushing his legs back toward the door with both hands.

“I have already told you, you are  _ not  _ to hang around my boy any longer! Get!”

Tio turned his eyes toward them from his newspaper behind the counter, not bothering to lift his head, then rolled them and continued reading. The single human customer in the shop looked up from the potted plants they were examining, but only briefly. The noise must have gotten Owen’s attention; his head poked out of the doorway to the back room a moment later.

“What’s going on- oh! Oni! Uh...hi.”

Oni held both hands up to placate Tia, but Owen drew her attention away. From Oni, anyway; definitely not the subject.

“Mijo! Tell this man to leave, right now! He is not good for you!”

Owen rolled his head back in exasperation. Oni found it endearing. “Tia,  _ please _ , I’ve told you a thousand times, none of it is his fault!”

Oni tilted his head. They’d been talking about him? Enough that this exact issue had come up repeatedly? That was interesting.

“No! You only get into trouble because of him and his friends. I don’t like it!”

The other human slipped out the door behind Owen, whispering a small “I’ll be back later” to Tio on the way out. Oni stood to the side to let them, still keeping his hands up toward Tia.

“Madam, please, I am only here for business.” All three of them looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “I was going to buy flowers to send to the funerals. They were business partners, after all. It would be rude not to.”

Tia looked incredulous, but backed down. Tio cast a glance at both Oni and Owen, then passed Owen to the back room. He called back behind him, “Silvia, help me with these bulbs.”

Tia grumbled but followed him to the back, stopping to point at Owen along the way. “Ring him up, and see him out. When I come back I want him gone. Am I clear?”

Owen sighed and nodded, waving her off as he met Oni at the counter. “I’m sorry about that. She thinks you’re too dangerous to be my friend.”

Oni laughed softly. “Is she wrong?”

Owen tilted his head, tone amused. “Is she?”

The silence lingered a moment before Oni shifted. “So. Flowers. For those poor, poor innocent men.”

“Right. Such a shame. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

Oni shrugged. “No. I thought I’d ask the expert for some recommendations.”

Owen waved a single index finger at him as he began to look around the walls. He plucked several from the wall, including some small yellow blossoms, some even smaller purple ones, and a woody branch of white ones. “St. John’s wort, lavender, white cherry blossoms, narcissus, pomegranate, amaranthus, hydrangea, buttercups, wild tansy, purple columb-”

“Owen.”

He stopped short to look at Oni, the pile of stalks and branches having grown in his arms as he listed them off. “O-oh...yes?”

Oni laughed softly. “Surprise me.”

Owen looked down at the flowers, then back at him. “....Oh. You’re not actually here for that, are you.”

“Not solely, no. Pick your favorites and send them a bunch.”

The smaller omnic began replacing the flowers he’d pulled. “Uh, sure. No problem. What are you actually here for, then?”

Oni leaned over to see into the back room, making sure Tia wasn’t spying on them. When he was sure the coast was clear, he slipped smoothly into binary. “To check up on you. Make sure you’re alright after our talk.”

Good, exactly as planned.

“Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I think I just needed to vent a little.”

“And to ask what time you get off.”

Wait, what?

“What time I get off? Oh, I mean...I don’t really have a set time, I can just make it up to them later. Why?”

“Can I steal you for a while?”  _ What are you doing? _ “You told me once that Dorado was beautiful.”  _ Oni, stop. _ “I won’t be here for too much longer, so I’d like to see it before I go.”  _ STOP.  _ “And, more specifically, I’d like you to show me.”

_ Well fuck. _

Owen looked absolutely ready to burst. He’d frozen, staring blankly at Oni, steam very faintly trickling out of some crevices in his head and chest.

Oni laughed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “Well? Better hurry up and decide. She said she wants me gone by the time she gets back.”

Owen snapped out of it and quickly pulled off the gardening apron he was wearing, throwing it haphazardly over the chair. He scrawled an order of flowers for the funerals on a sticky note and left it front and center, then hurried around the counter and took Oni’s hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Oni squeezed his hand and pulled him back to stand in front of him, not letting go. “I have to work in…” He tilted his head up as though in thought, making a show of checking his chronometer. “...an hour and a half. Tonight, though. Okay?”

Owen stood stock still, then nodded. The steam returned, and Owen laughed softly. 

“Meet me at the bar at six?”

“Six. Right. Okay. Sure.”

He laughed again and released his hand, flicking his chin gently instead as he passed him on his way toward the door. “You’re adorable.”

Owen looked down at his hand a moment after he left, bounced lightly on his feet, and eagerly got back to work.

 

\-------------------------------

 

A few hours into work and Oni had already begun wishing he’d waited until afterward. The day was dragging now. There was no fanfare or welcome party returning to a job like this. Just back to guarding meetings, escorting important people, and overseeing inventory like nothing ever happened.

Masato and Daisuke had spent the previous days preparing some weapons stock to be shipped out of the harbor. It was a test shipment, only set to travel a few hours south and return with new stock, to get an idea of how their product would be handled coming in and out of Dorado.

And now here they were, unpacking guns and knives of every shape and size, undoing all of their hard work. Shipment dates had been suspended indefinitely. Ichiro wouldn’t explain to them why it had to be done, but everyone assumed Nakada didn’t trust Flores to handle his ready-to-fire stock honorably if negotiations with the execution went south. Best case scenario ended with a missing shipment valued in the quintuple digits; worst case ended with a bunch of yakuza perforated by their own bullets. It wasn’t worth the risk, and lately Oni had wondered if killing those vermin in the first place was worth all this trouble.

Inconvenience to the family aside, Oni knew just how lucky they’d been that Los Muertos hadn’t been smart enough to trace any of the events back to Owen and his family. It was dangerous,  _ extremely  _ dangerous, but something kept drawing him back to the quaint little florist shop. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was putting innocent lives on the line. And yet here he was, counting down the minutes because he’d asked him for...a date. There was no way around it now, this was a date. The word set in, and he began to realize just how in over his head he really was.

Just as his thoughts were beginning to sour his mood, one of the other men emptied the last crate and Ichiro called the operation to a close. He could sort himself and his relationships out later. Oni dropped his crowbar into the nearest open box, grabbed his jacket from where he’d set it down, and rushed out of the warehouse. His internal clock read 5:27 pm, just enough time to make it to the bar. He’d hoped he’d have time to shower and change his clothes before meeting him, but the smell of seawater and gun oil was better than making Owen wait. Hopefully.

He arrived at the bar only a minute or two late and sure enough, found Owen sitting at the bar. He came up behind him, trying not to be too quiet in case he startled him. Owen jumped anyway, turning to face him with his antenna standing straight up, bent halfway as always.

“Oh! It’s only you, hah.”

Oni tilted his head. “Only me? Were you expecting someone else?”

“No, no! Of course not! I’m just...a little nervous, I guess, is all.”

“Nervous? Not on my account, I hope.” Oni slid easily into the seat next to him. Owen laughed, but didn’t answer.

“I put your order in. They should have arrived by now. And…” He held out a clear plastic box, a deep maroon peony inside, surrounded by tiny white flowers and two larger half-open white buds. “These finally arrived, so I thought I’d make you a boutonniere. They’re usually just a single flower, but I thought the baby’s breath and white carnations looked nice with it. And I didn’t want you to have to carry it around all night, and you’re always wearing the suit, so…”

Oni held a hand up to cut him off, chuckling softly and taking the box from him. “It’s very nice, thank you.” He opened the box and took the flowers from inside, pinning the arrangement easily to his left lapel. “There, perfect. Now I can blend in better when I hide amongst all the other ones you’ve been sending me.”

The smaller omnic stiffened, that charming steam rolling off his vents again. He began stuttering for an explanation, but Oni’s laughter interrupted before he got anywhere close. “It’s fine, kid. So, what’s on the itinerary tonight?”

“Uhm…” Owen hadn’t relaxed any, and shrugged lightly. “I don’t know. I hadn’t planned that far ahead. Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?”

“Well…” Oni sat back against the barstool, tapping an index finger against his chin. “I did finally see the beach today, in passing. It seemed nice enough for a closer look.”

“The beach?” Owen paused for only a split second, then nodded. “Okay, we can go to the beach.”

Oni stood and held a hand to Owen, who puffed out an extra cloud of steam and took it gingerly. Once he was standing, Oni kept the grip on his hand long enough to guide him out of the bar, then released it in favor of resting his on Owen’s back instead. “Now, my little tour guide, is there some top secret scenic route down to the beach?”

Owen giggled, clearly trying to contain himself, and shook his head. “No, just the main path down the cliff. I’ll be sure to tell the town mayor the view is not to your satisfaction.”

The streets were far from empty, the sun only on its way down, but the foot traffic stopped once they reached the edge of the cliff. Down on the beach below, most of the locals and tourists had already cleared out, probably heading home for dinner or to one of the nearby bars. All the better, Oni thought; a bunch of prying human eyes would have made this far more difficult.

He let his date - god, that still felt so  _ weird _ \- lead him down the steep, zig-zagging wooden stairs to the beach below. He was the guide here, after all. They reached the bottom and Oni laughed as the other’s feet sunk into the sand. He made a mental note to buy the kid some shoes next time.

Looking around, the only people left on the beach were a group of young kids playing soccer. Seizing the the opportunity, Oni held his elbow out toward Owen, who took it bashfully with his own arm, his other hand covering his heated faceplate. Oni made a pleased sound and turned his head forward as they began walking. “So, about those flowers.”

“Was it too much…?”

“Well…” he began, trying to choose his words carefully, “maybe a little. But I like them anyway.” He looked down at the deep crimson blossom on his chest. “This one especially.”

“Ah, I’m glad. I’m sorry if it was...overbearing, or anything.”

“Mostly I was worried you had nothing better to do.”

That got a laugh out of Owen, causing Oni to look down to him. “Well, I don’t, really. But I would have sent you something even if I did. I haven’t drawn too much attention, have I?”

Oni shrugged. “Masato thinks it suspicious that I got three baskets in three days from a mysterious ‘kid’. Didn’t think it plausible that all those women we called in all enjoyed my company  _ and  _ the nickname so much that they’d all send me flowers with nothing else attached.”

Owen laughed again. “All those women, huh?”

“Yeah, the guys call them in once in awhile. Get drunk, spend too much, have fun. Kinda part of the job. You’d be surprised how easily they warm up to omnics.” He paused, realizing the implications of what he’d just said. “...And this probably isn’t the kind of thing you’re supposed to talk about on first dates, huh.”

“No, probably not.” Owen’s voice, much to Oni’s relief, still held an amused tone. Oni decided not to press his luck, and eagerly searched for a subject change.

“So, that lady you live with. She’s something else, huh.”

“Hah!” Owen placed his other hand on the front of Oni’s upper arm, catching his attention. He didn’t mention it. “Yeah, she can be a handful. It’s exhausting and infuriating sometimes, but I know it’s because she worries about me.”

Oni’s gaze and tone softened. “Yeah, I can tell. She cares about you a lot. Frankly I’d be concerned if she  _ wasn’t  _ worried about her kid hanging around some filthy criminal.”

Owen smacked his arm gently. “Stop that, you are  _ not  _ filthy.”

“I was teasing, but thank you.” He dropped his free hand into his pocket. “You think she’d ever warm up to me?”

He snorted. “Not likely.”

“Mm, not that she’d really have time.”

Owen slowed for a split second but didn’t stop, though his voice lost its playful tone. “Ah. Right. When do you go back?”   
  
“Two weeks or so.”

He was silent for a moment, then perked back up. “Well then! That just means we’ll have to make the most of those two weeks, huh?”

He noticed Owen’s hand curl a little tighter around his wrist. It caused the fabric of his sleeve to pull back slightly, and Owen’s attention fell to the edge of the tattoo exposed underneath. Oni watched the other’s fingertips brush over the finely engraved lines for several seconds, apparently enraptured by the artwork.

“It’s a tiger.”

Owen jumped and looked up at him like a child who’d been caught sneaking a cookie. “O-oh! I’m sorry, I-”

The taller omnic simply laughed. “It’s okay.” He pulled his arm away from Owen, who seemed reluctant to let it go, and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow. It only revealed the tiger up to the middle of its back, but Owen seemed content to marvel at its powerful hindquarters, and the lotus blossoms and stylized clouds surrounding it.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a symbol of strength and courage, and a long life. Also brings good luck and wards off demons.”

Owen looked up at him, tilting his head in amusement and flicking an index finger gently against one of Oni’s horns. “That’s ironic.”

“Well,” he began, “the oni have their own symbolism. They’re the guardians of hell, torturers of sinners, bringers of destruction. But they’re not evil. They do the necessary duties given to them by higher deities.”

Owen hummed softly, optics trailing from his face back down to his forearm. “It’s fitting. Do all your mods have such deep meanings?”

“Most of them.”

The florist’s thumb traced circles around the flower nearest his wrist. “You know, the lotus is a symbol of eloquence, beauty, and grace. And pink ones mean purity and devotion.”

“In Japan, it’s a symbol for life and perseverance.” Owen looked up at him, so he continued. “It grows from the muddy bottom, up through the water and when it reaches the surface, it blooms into one of the most beautiful flowers in the world.”

“I like yours better.”

Oni laughed, and Owen ran his fingers up the tiger’s spine until he reached the sleeve, then looked up at him again. “Do you have others?”

Oni knew that translated to ‘Tell me about your others’, because he had seen both his arms and the upper edge of his chest the night they’d talked in the conference room. Still, he humored him and rolled up the other sleeve, holding his arm out toward Owen. “Snakes don’t mean the same thing they do in the West. They’re wise and adaptive and bring good luck.”

Owen reached out to take his other arm, rubbing his thumb over the curves of the solid black snake’s body, and the rolling waves beneath it. “I like that better, too.”

“Maybe you should have been made in Japan.”

Owen giggled softly. “Maybe I should have.”

Oni lowered the sleeve to cover the snake, but left the tiger bared for Owen to continue admiring. “I can’t show you my other ones. Not here, anyway.”

The little omnic looked up. “No?”

“I’d have to take my clothes off, and I don’t feel like carrying them around or getting re-dressed.”

Owen momentarily forgot that he had, in fact, never worn an article of clothing a day in his life, and that an omnic walking around bare was not only acceptable but practically expected. His optics fell to the tiny hints of pink and green between the first button of Oni’s shirt - that was usually closed, wasn’t it? - and it took him several seconds to pull himself away from the thought of what lie beyond that. “Ah. Where, uhm...where  _ don’t  _ you have any mods?”

Oni held his hands out in front of him, palms down and fingers splayed. Owen looked at them, puzzled, then back up at his face.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Wow.”

He let out a puff of steam and quickly glued his eyes back to the tiger. Oni laughed genuinely, only causing Owen’s internal temperature to rise even higher. Quickly he sought out a change of subject. “S-so...humans always say tattoos hurt. Did yours hurt?”

“Oh yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. In my line of work, humans are supposed to get their tattoos the old-fashioned way, with a needle and a little hammer. It’s to show that you’re devoted and strong enough to endure the pain. So if they didn’t hurt, there’d be no point in getting them.” He slipped the hand with the snake back into his pocket, looking down at Owen’s hands on the tiger. “First they engraved them, and that took hours. Then they anodized the entire plate, while it’s on me, then dyed the individual sections, and then put a protective coat over it.”

“Anodized?” He looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a process to color metal. First you soak it in a lye, then in sulfuric acid, and they run an electrical current through it. Then you add dye. Used to have to soak it in that too, but now it’s a lot more precise.” He could practically feel the horror pouring off Owen, despite his static face. “Yeah, it burned like the fucking sun, but it works.”

“And...and they  _ made _ you do this for them?” He drew his hand away from the tattoo and held his sleeve instead, the reverence he had for it a moment ago turning to antipathy.

“What? No.” Oni looked down at him, then shook his head and looked forward cooly. “No, I did it completely of my own accord. Totally voluntary.”

The other relaxed only slightly, discomfort replaced by confusion. “...Why?”

Oni smirked inwardly, seizing the opportunity. He curled his arm up tightly, Owen’s hand still on his bicep. He couldn’t flex any muscles, but he revved his fans and sparked the servos in his arm for him to feel. “Because it looks bad _ ass _ .”

Owen  _ squeaked _ , and promptly smacked his free hand over his faceplate as though that would muffle it. Steam was rolling off of him in curtains. Oni laughed deeply and hooked his arm around his waist, pulling him against his side as they walked.

“You are  _ so  _ cute.”

He got a flustered flap of the hand in return. He was about to say something again, but he didn’t get the chance. A high-pitched yelp was the only warning Oni had before Owen was nearly horizontal, clinging to his arm for dear life. Had it happened a split second faster, Oni might not have been able to react in time. As it were, he was able to brace his legs and keep Owen off the ground.

For a moment.

The loose sand gave way underneath his feet, causing both of them to go down. Oni somehow managed not to fall on top of Owen, but sat up quickly and leaned over to him. “Are you alright?”

Owen laughed, not bothering to sit up, or even lift his head. That was a good sign, at least. Oni stood and brushed off his pants, then held a hand down to help Owen up, now laughing himself. He took it and started to pull himself up, but stopped short with a sharp cry of pain.

Humor gone, Oni carefully lowered him back down. He looked down to see what happened, but nothing seemed to be out of place. “What’s wrong?”

Owen propped himself up with his hands behind him and tried to straighten his leg. The knee joint made a sickening grating sound and he cried out again. Oni put a hand on his thigh to stop him.

“Okay, okay. Easy, don’t move it.”

Owen shifted, the pain apparently dissipating as soon as he stopped moving. “I think...I think it’s just sand in my joints.”

_ Of course _ . Oni had gotten so accustomed to wearing clothes that he’d forgotten some of the dangers of  _ not _ . He nodded and gingerly scooped Owen up into his arms, getting to his feet. “Try not to move, okay? We’ll go get you cleaned up.”

Steam poured from Owen’s vents again. He chuckled shyly and shifted as much as he could without pain, trying to find the most comfortable position in Oni’s arms. “Sorry to ruin the mood.”

“Not at all,” Oni purred, heading back toward the stairs up the cliff face. “Just don’t tell your aunt.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry yet again for the holdup. The release of Sombra and the information that came with it required this story to be tweaked a little, but it worked out because I like the new plot even better. Then work and holidays happened and you know how that goes.

“Ay, torpecito, you’re killing me.”

They ended up in the back room of the mechanic’s shop - Oni had insisted on it - with Owen sitting on the workbench. Oni stood behind him, one arm around his shoulders to support his weight. He had been holding his hand, but Mari had to remove his forearms and lower legs to clear the sand out thoroughly.

“At least it was actually a fall, this time,” he said smugly.

Owen gave him a silent reproachful look, and Mari snickered. “Oh I know, salvador. If Los Muertos are going to start attacking omnics by throwing sand at them…” She laughed, then stopped, realizing a bit belatedly what the implications of that would be. She shook her head and continued squeezing the bottle of fluid to flush the grains out of Owen’s left knee. “How did this happen, exactly?”

Owen spoke up before Oni could slip in any more teasing remarks. “We were on the beach, and I tripped.”

“On the beach?” She looked up briefly. “What were you doing on the beach?”

Oni leaned forward, this time taking the opportunity before Owen could stop him. “Only the most salacious things we could think of, I assure you.”

Owen squeaked and tried to hide his face, which was difficult without his hands. Mari stopped and looked up at them with both brows raised. Oni couldn’t hold back his laughter, and quickly waved a hand at the mechanic. “No, really, we just went for a walk and he tripped.”

She smirked, but the surprise didn’t leave her face. She returned to her work with a shake of her head. “Well, whatever you were doing, you’d better be careful. And I don’t just mean falling in the sand.”

Oni nodded, sobering. He patted a hand against Owen’s shoulder. “I know. He’s in good hands.”

“He better be.” She gave him a look, then sat back and grabbed the detached left leg to reattach it. “As much as I appreciate the steady business, it looks bad if my projects keep coming back to me in worse and worse shape.”

“Mm,” Oni nodded, “if it were up to me he wouldn’t be in here for anything but routine checkups. No offense.”

Mari shook her head. ”None taken. I’d rather that too.”

Owen swatted gently at Oni’s arm with what was left of his. “Stop it, you’re going to give me a complex.”

He simply snorted, removing the hand from his shoulder to bap him lightly on the head in return. “Be quiet, you could use a complex or two.”

There was a fair bit of scraping on the insides of his joints, according to Mari. Oni had caught a few glimpses while she was working, but he had no frame of reference to gauge how bad it was. He watched as she filled the scratches with a nanite sealant, and after a few moments of waiting, the scratches were completely unnoticeable.

She repeated the process with the other three limbs, trying not to indulge her curiosity too much. The less she knew about Oni and his relationship with Owen, the better, she assumed. And Oni was more than happy to keep it that way.

Owen slid off the workbench and flexed his arms and legs. No grinding, no clicking, no pain. “Good as new, thanks Marib-...Mari.”

“So you can learn! Go on, get out of here.”

Oni shook his head in amusement and loaded up a credit chit, not bothering to ask the cost of the repairs. He slid it to her. “Keep the extra. I gotta get him home before I get him in trouble.”

Mari took it, blinking at it. “Uh, yeah, sure, okay. Thanks. Be careful.”

He gave her a salute and draped his arm over Owen’s shoulders. He guided him out of the shop and onto the street, earning him a flustered giggle as a reward. He made a mental note to do it more often.

The pair walked down the street, mostly empty again - it had gotten later than they thought, apparently. They broke the silence with inconsequential small talk, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Easy conversation without the need for a fixed topic. It was pleasant, and not something Oni was used to. He got the impression Owen wasn’t either.

Loud cursing from around the corner next caused Oni to look up - it was Tía’s voice - but it was a second, unfamiliar voice cursing back, followed by jeers and laughter, that really drew his attention. Apparently it had caught Owen’s too, as he was already three steps ahead of Oni and about to turn the corner. Oni lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the smaller omnic’s waist, dragging him back, kicking and struggling the whole way. He ushered him in a hurry behind one of the long-closed stalls in the plaza and pointed a finger at him. 

“Stay,” he said, and there was no room for argument.

He stormed around the corner, hand on his gun but not drawing it just yet, already fairly certain of what was happening. Sure enough, five people were standing in front of the flower shop: Tía Silvia, with her husband’s arm around her shoulders protectively, and three young adults he didn’t recognize. Almost immediately it became clear that the arm around Tía was for their protection, not hers. She was pulling at her husband’s grasp, pointing and shouting at the other three, brandishing a trowel in her other hand.

“You think you can just do shit like this in our town? I don’t think so, bitch,” the young woman taunted. 

Tía swung the trowel uselessly in her direction. “I’ve lived in this town since before your parents were born, little girl!”

Tío, ever the voice of reason, pulled his wife a few steps further back and looked toward the other three. “We really don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t done anyth-”

“Bullshit, Manuel,” one of the men interrupted. “Why would Gabriela lie?”

Oni decided to go in and try to chase them off without a fight, until he saw the glint of something shiny in the strangers’ hands. He wasn’t sure what they were exactly, but it couldn’t be anything good, and he would rather they use it on him than Owen’s family. He had a greater chance of surviving it.

He stormed up the inclined street toward them. “Hey!” His voice boomed, a tone and volume he very seldom used. All five of them stopped in their tracks.

The same man was the first to react, stance turning cocky as a grin split his face in two. He pointed at Oni with a small knife. “Oh, it’s this one, huh?” He turned back to the couple. “This is the tin can you’ve been hiding?” 

Tía and Tío looked nervously to Oni, and he gave them a single inconspicuous nod, holding one hand up toward them to, hopefully, ease their fears.

The second man spoke up, sauntering over to his friend’s side. His smile was unkind. “Gabriela said you had an omnic working here, but I didn’t think it was our favorite omnic.”

Oni closed the gap between them until there were only a few paces left, then stopped and drew his gun. The three humans stiffened and the apparent leader drew his own, pointing it right back at Oni. The omnic was unfazed.

“Yes, I come here often,” he said. “They hired me to help procure some….rare and illegal plants from Japan. Nothing more. Leave them be, and we can all go our separate ways.”

The humans exchanged glances, punctuated with untrustworthy smiles, then looked up at the building. Finally the nearest man faced Oni again. “Fine, murderer.”

Oni watched them give the florists one last threatening look, keeping his surprise carefully concealed. He wondered if stories of the alley incident hadn’t escalated beyond the truth, if three of them were afraid to take him on alone. He expected more of a fight from such hot-headed jackasses.

Once he was sure they were clear, he closed the gap between him and Owen’s family. He looked them over, careful not to touch them, given Tía’s already negative opinion of him. Putting his hands on her after she was attacked, arguably because of something he caused, was probably not a good idea.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and to his surprise Tía nodded and thanked him. 

“Manuel kept them out of the store, nothing happened.” She huffed, crossing her arms and pouting. “Just stupid brats trying to cause trouble for fun.”

Oni nodded, and Tío nudged his wife gently. She took a breath and dropped her arms. “And...thank you for not telling them about Owen. They don’t know he lives here. I don’t know how they found out.”

“There was another customer in the store when I arrived today,” said Oni, and the humans glanced at each other in concern. Oni held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let any harm come to him. I can put him up at the hotel, if you think he’d be safer. But I won’t force him. Or you.”

She didn’t answer him immediately. This surprised Oni as well; he expected her to reject the idea before he could finish his sentence, and probably curse him out and threaten him with a shoe. But she seemed to actually be considering it, her husband’s hand rubbing supportively over her shoulder.

She looked up at him again finally. “Where is he?”

Oni looked over his shoulder in the direction he came from. “I’ll go get him.”

When he returned to Owen, the little omnic was curled up obediently exactly where he left him. Oni crouched in front of him and held a hand out, softening his voice. “Okay, you can come out now. It’s safe.”

Owen took his hand and Oni helped him to his feet. “What happened?” he asked.

“Los Muertos were harassing them at the front door. Apparently someone found out they had an omnic working in the shop. Right now, they think it was me. Come on, your aunt is asking for you.”

He guided Owen back down the street toward his family, who both immediately pulled him into a tight hug. Owen asked them if they were alright, and they reassured the nervous little omnic the best they could. 

Tía took both of Owen’s hands in her own. “Owen, mijo, listen to me. Your friend here thinks it would be better for you to stay elsewhere for a while. I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, or what he’s gotten you into, but more than anything I want to make sure you are safe.”

Owen looked uneasy, glancing between her and Oni. “But-”

“No, mijo, listen. Your friend has offered to get you a room in the hotel. I want you to let him. It’s only for a little while, until it’s safe again. Alright?”

Owen looked down at her for a long moment, realizing that she wasn’t really giving him an option. He sighed heavily and nodded, pulling both of them into another hug. “You be careful too, please.”

“Of course, mijo. We’ll see you soon.”

Owen turned to Oni, clearly unsure. “Can...can I get a few things from inside?”

Oni glanced around, making sure there was no one around, then nodded. “Be quick, and come out the back. I’ll meet you there.”

Owen nodded and scurried into the house. Tía and Tío shuffled in after him, both giving Oni one last unreadable look - was that gratitude? - and closed the door behind them.

Oni scanned the area one more time before heading around the back. He knew Owen wouldn’t like being taken through the site of the massacre, but they didn’t have much choice. If Los Muertos knew there was an omnic staying here, it wouldn’t be a stretch for them to figure out it wasn’t Oni. Taking the unexpected back routes for a while wouldn’t be a bad idea.

It was only a few moments before Owen appeared out the back door, carrying a small and rather beat-up old-fashioned leather suitcase. He looked absolutely terrified, shoulders drawn and optics on the floor. Oni sighed and put an arm around him, hoping it would be reassuring, and led him toward the gate. “Don’t worry. It’s temporary.”

“I know.”

“You sure?”

He hesitated, then looked away. “No…”

Oni couldn’t do much more than rub his shoulder. “Well. I do. C’mon. Let’s get you settled in for the night.”

The two of them headed back toward Oni’s hotel, taking the scenic route just in case. He led him to the front desk and booked a room, indefinitely. He paid a week up front, handed him the key, and brought him to the elevator. They reached the room in silence, and Oni followed him in. Fortunately, this hotel was a little too upscale for most Los Muertos to follow them in without causing a scene. 

Owen entered first and propped his suitcase against a wall by the door. He gazed around the room, taking in his new surroundings. Oni watched for a while, then sighed and stepped closer. “Hey, kid…”

Owen laughed suddenly, catching Oni off-guard, but it trailed off. “I’m sorry our d-....our date got ruined.”

Oni exhaled a faint trail of steam and put an arm around him. “Nah, kid. It wasn’t ruined. You’re okay, despite my best efforts, and I had a good time.”

“You did?” he said, looking up at him.

“Is that so surprising?”

A moment of hesitation. “Uh, kinda, yeah.” Before Oni could respond, he continued. “But, regardless, thank you. I did too.”

“Even though I nearly got your limbs removed?”

Small laughter, and Oni considered it a victory. “Even though you almost got my limbs removed.”

“Good.” He rubbed Owen’s back with one hand, and Owen turned to lean against him. Oni looked down at him, yet again caught off-guard, and slowly wrapped his arms around him. “You’re alright, kid.”

“I’m fine. But Tía and Tío…”

“They’ll be fine too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Hey.”

Owen didn’t move, so Oni leaned away from him and tilted his head up with one hand. “They’ll be fine, okay? I promise. I’ll make sure of it myself.”

The smaller omnic gazed up at him for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry. And thank you.”

“‘Course, kid. I’ve kinda made you and yours my personal responsibility, at this point.”

Owen gave the faintest of laughs, then looked back down. Oni sighed. “You’ll see them again. This is only temporary. Just ‘til the dust settles. Okay?”

The other cycled some air through his vents, then nodded and took a step back. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay. It’ll be fine.”

“Promise.” Oni glanced around briefly, then turned back to him. “I’ll leave you to settle in. You probably want some alone time anyway. I’ll see about getting a guard at your door, and you know how to reach me if you need anything else.”

Owen nodded, and Oni eyed him a moment longer. “I’m just a few floors up. I’ll come check in on you in a little while.”

He hooked an arm around him again, pulling him into a sort of half-hug, held it for a moment, and exited the room.

Owen lingered there, holding onto the feeling as long as he could, until he heard the door close. He scanned the room again, not really taking any of it in, and dropped himself onto the couch, exhausted.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS I accidentally posted Chap 11 again. My bad!

Oni dropped his phone into his pocket as he entered his room, having just texted Daisuke the situation with Owen. He looked up and immediately drew his gun, not expecting to find Masato lounging on his sofa. He exhaled some steam and holstered his weapon, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him.

“Evening.”

“Evening.”

Masato was looking at his phone, a cigarette hanging unlit off his lip. He didn’t smoke often. He looked distinctly like he knew something Oni didn’t.

“You hurried out of work pretty early tonight. Hot date with another girl?”

Oni sighed and dropped his head back, letting his arms fall limp at his sides in exasperation. He slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the nearest seat. “Yes, Masato, you can lecture me now.”

The man sat up and pulled a lighter from his pocket, setting his phone down to light his cigarette. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten into with him, do you.”

Oni dropped himself into the chair. “Apparently not. Enlighten me.”

Masato gave him a look, but continued. “He gave you pink roses the day after you saved him in the alley.”

“Right,” Oni conceded. “He said they were a symbol of gratitude.”

“Correct.” Masato leaned back, folding his hands neatly over his stomach and crossing one leg over the other. “And what about the entire garden he’s sent you since then?”

A short pause. “What about them?”

“What do they mean?”

“He never said they meant-....” Oni trailed off, realization beginning to creep in.

“I thought so. I took the liberty of doing some research for you.” Masato tapped his phone on the coffee table and exhaled a stream of smoke, and Oni rubbed a hand over his face. “When you brought him here for your private little rendezvous and had me stand guard, he brought you a basket of flowers as cover, but he let you keep it. It had day lilies, periwinkle, and a pink peony.”

“Yeah, I remember…”

“Good. Periwinkle signifies early friendship. Peonies, especially pink ones, are a sign of bashfulness. And day lilies are a sign of coquetry.”

Oni tilted his head. “You think he was flirting with me? Through flowers? Isn’t the fact that he was giving me flowers already proof that he was flirting with me?”

Masato shrugged. “I thought the same, and it could well have been a coincidence.” He gestured to the baskets that had been delivered in the past few days. “Until you got those.”

“Masato, if you’re trying to tell me that he likes me, I already know that.”

Masato ignored Oni and continued. He pointed at each flower as he listed them off. “Yellow roses. Affection. Red tulips. Declaration of love. Lilac. First feelings of love. White jonquil. ‘I desire a return of affection.’” He nodded to the flower pinned to Oni’s chest. “And white carnation. Endearment.”

Oni stared at the flowers in silence. He thought back to their conversation in the flower shop, about the meanings of flowers, and to the one they’d just had on the beach about Oni’s tattoos. Owen clearly had a fondness for symbolism. The odds that Owen would give him these flowers without knowing and specifically choosing their meanings were, frankly, slim to none.

“Oni,” Masato said, surprisingly softly, drawing his attention. “He doesn’t just like you. He’s in love with you.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This had all been a horrible, horrible mistake. The faint warmth that began to take root inside him was quickly swallowed up by cold black dread. He’d dragged this poor kid along, entertained his fancies, even gotten him caught in the crossfire of a potential gang war, all for a selfish fling that had no chance of becoming anything substantial. He had to talk to him. 

He could feel Masato’s expectant, calculating eyes on him. He sighed heavily and shook his head again. “Christ. Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

Masato nodded, staying quiet for only a moment. “Do you love him?”

Oni looked up. That was a decidedly blasphemous accusation, and a question Oni had never stopped to consider. Dozens of girls (and the occasional boy) had come before Owen; Oni would let them hang around for a few weeks, they’d show each other a good time, and then inevitably something would draw them apart. Sometimes he’d break a heart or two, but they always got over it quickly. And for him it was even easier. There was never any sadness, no hard feelings, no regret. Everyone moved on when the time was right. 

This was, arguably, much the same situation. They’d been here in Mexico for nearly two months, seen each other a handful of times, hardly long enough to fall in love. Owen must have been infatuated, not in love. And he had fun, and he was fairly certain Owen did too. This was the part where something came along to separate them. Owen might be disappointed, but he’d be okay. Frail as he was, he had strength in him that impressed even Oni, and the end of a little summer fling would not be what broke him.

And yet, this was different. There was sadness. There was regret. He saved Owen’s life, and Owen in turn saved his. This wasn’t just a matter of not wanting to officially break up, but of actively wanting to keep what he had. Owen would be fine, but for some reason, Oni wasn’t sure he would. It was selfish, but an unexpectedly strong desire. 

“Oni,” Masato said with a surprisingly gentle tone, breaking his train of thought. “Listen to me. I’m not going to tell you what you should tell him. But you do need to think long and hard about the consequences. He’s not used to a life like this, and if you’re not upfront with him, you’re only going to hurt him worse. And you need to consider what Ichiro and Nakada will have to say about it. There is a lot at stake, and regardless of what you decide, it will be hard.”

Oni simply nodded. He tried his best to avoid a dismissive attitude; he listened, he knew Masato was right, and he took his words to heart. It wasn’t him that his frustration was directed at. He rubbed his hand over the front of his faceplate, where a mouth would have been, unable to come up with anything to say.

Masato took that as his cue. He rose to his feet, putting his cigarette out in the otherwise empty ashtray and dropping his phone into his pocket. “I’ll leave you to think about it then.”

He gave a small bow and exited.

Minutes passed in a haze as Oni weighed his options; he’d promised to check on Owen tonight, and this was not a matter that could wait any longer. Every time he tried to argue for staying with him, some other part of him scolded himself. No matter how hard he tried to make it work, he couldn’t justify putting Owen’s life at risk for his own trivial amusement.

It had to be amusement.

He rose from his seat.

\--------------------------

The silence that followed the knock on Owen’s door had Oni’s engine roaring in his chest. He stood in the hallway, hands in his pants pockets, optics on the floor, counting the seconds as they passed before the door finally opened. He looked up, and to his relief, it was indeed Owen looking back at him.

“Hey, kid. How you doing?”

Owen shrugged and looked down. “Alright.”

Lies. 

“You need anything?”

“Uhm….s-some company…would be nice.”

Oni couldn’t help it. He nodded, unable to keep the smile from his voice. “Sure.”

Owen stepped back and Oni entered the room. He’d made a deal with himself: one more night, and then he’d have to break it to him. Probably in the morning, or the day after. Oni thought breaking up with him after uprooting him from the only family he ever had, after an otherwise successful and pleasant date, would be too cruel. He’d give the kid one more night to enjoy himself, and himself one more night to enjoy the kid. They both earned it, and to some degree, they both needed it.

He scanned the room, finding everything untouched since he’d left earlier, and turned back to Owen. “How do you like the room?”

“It’s very nice. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere so fancy. Thank you.” Owen’s body language was stiff, nervous. 

Oni held his arms out. “C’mere, kid.”

Owen exhaled and shuffled toward him, perhaps a little quicker than he intended to, wrapping his own arms tightly around Oni’s waist. Oni held him close. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be okay.”

“I know.” But he didn’t let go, and Oni didn’t push him to. Eventually, after several minutes, the smaller omnic finally pulled away. He kept his optics down at first, but then looked up at him. “So, what do you want to do?”

Oni shrugged, looking back down at him. “I dunno. Didn’t really have anything in mind.”

Owen nodded, taking an uncomfortable step back. “Okay, well… there was actually something I’d been meaning to tell you.”

Oh no.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I actually… kind of already told you, but… I don’t think the message got through.”

“The flowers?”

Owen’s attention jerked up. “Y-you understood them?”

He chuckled softly, hoping it didn’t sound too empty. “Nope. Went completely over my head. Fortunately I have a very attentive colleague who took the time to do my research for me.”

“O-oh.” A tiny cloud of steam escaped him. “S-so… what do you think?”

Oni took an unneeded breath. “Well. I’m flattered. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.”

Owen shifted. “But…”

“But, it’s only been a few weeks. And I only have a couple left before we leave.” Shit. So much for waiting.

“...Right.”

Oni stepped closer again, rubbing his hands up and down Owen’s arms. “Hey, c’mon, kid. It ain’t all bad. Let’s enjoy it while we can, yeah?”

He let out a half-hearted giggle and a somewhat reluctant nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“So…” Owen began, looking somewhere off to the side. “You’re...really interested? In me?”

“Somebody this cute?” He nudged Owen’s chin with his knuckle. “How could I not?”

Owen giggled again, a little more genuine. Oni put an arm around him and led him to the couch. He dropped onto it, crossing his legs and resting his arms over the back of it. He gestured to the empty spot next to him.

Owen took it, sitting up straight and facing forward. Oni rolled his head and pulled him against his side. He said they were going to enjoy it while they could, and damn it, they were going to enjoy it. Fortunately, Owen followed his lead and huddled up against him. 

“So. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I know you like flowers, and I know how you ended up with your aunt and uncle, but other than that…”

“Well,” Owen began, tilting his head away, “I was actually made in the US. Texas, I think. I lived there for a little while, not very long. But that’s why my name isn’t Spanish. I lived with some humans, taking care of their young daughter. We went on vacation to Dorado, and I got lost, and by the time I found my way back to the hotel, they had already left for home…” He shook his head. “I guess they assumed I got scrapped, or something. Honestly, I’m lucky I didn’t.”

“Do you miss them?”

“A little, sometimes. I don’t remember them much. After that I just kind of wandered around the town for a while. Lived in a few secret omnic shelters. It was alright for a while, but then tensions started rising, and things got more dangerous… I started looking for a job, hoping I could at least find a small place or a room to rent, so I could at least stay off the street. Then I found Tía and Tío, and you know the rest.”

“Sounds like you’ve had an interesting life.”

“Not as interesting as yours, I’m sure.”

Oni laughed. “That’s subjective.”

“Well how about you tell me, and then I’ll be the judge of that?”

“Hah, if you say so.” Oni leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling in a conspicuous display of thought. “Well, I was made in Osaka. Did menial factory work, ‘til the company I worked for got shut down. Fortunately by then, we weren’t legally considered property anymore, so we were free to go off on our own. Unfortunately, I was a stupid little brat who thought he was hot shit and got his ass kicked on the street without adult supervision. Eventually I got fed up and joined the yakuza so no one would start shit with me anymore. And it worked. Started as a grunt, and I’ve been working my way up ever since.”

Owen listened intently, fascinated. “And now?”

Oni looked at him and snickered. “Now I am hot shit.”

The other laughed and coughed a puff of steam, drawing a deeper laugh from Oni. Owen shook his head, worrying the fabric of Oni’s sleeve between his fingers. “Well, Mister Oni, I would say we’ve both had rather interesting lives.”

“Mm. Wanna know a secret?” 

Owen perked up. “A secret?”

“That’s not really my name.”

Owen paused, then tilted his head. “It...it’s not?”

“No. That was the nickname I got after I started getting mods.” He gestured to his head. “The horns were first. I just kind of kept it”

“Huh. Then...what’s your real name? Uhm. If… if you want to tell me, I mean.”

“Promise you won’t tell anybody?”

He nodded resolutely. “Promise.”

“And promise you won’t laugh?”

A giggle, this time. “Promise.”

Oni nodded. “My real name is Hiei.”

Owen repeated it, and Oni nodded again. “Hiei. I like it. It suits you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Owen settled back against him, taking Oni’s forearm in his hands and tracing his thumb over the lines of the tiger’s tail peeking out from under his sleeve.

Oni watched him, optics on his face rather than his hands, for nearly a full minute. He spoke before he could stop himself. “Would you like to see the others?”

Owen’s thumbs stopped short, the rest of him momentarily frozen. He turned his head to look at Oni. “I-I… I mean… if you want to…”

Without a word, Oni sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt. Owen stared, only half trying to hide it. The last button came undone and Oni shrugged out of the sleeves, tossing the shirt onto the arm of the sofa. Under it he wore the same white tank top with the black silk suspenders.

Owen felt like he should have been disappointed, but he couldn’t. The tank top clung tight to Oni’s chest and waist, perfectly following his silhouette. It bared his arms completely, and the low neckline revealed just enough of the top of his chest. It was somehow more alluring than if he hadn’t been wearing anything underneath the shirt at all.

Oni caught him staring and imitated the sound of clearing his throat, causing Owen to jump. He laughed and held his arms out. Up his left arm, nearer to Owen, was the tiger surrounded by thick clouds of mist and pink lotuses, its body colored like bright fire. Owen had seen its powerful hindquarters and lashing tail before, but it was more impressive now with claws extended, teeth bared, and emerald eyes.

The newly revealed snake, a rich inky black, coiled elegantly around Oni’s right arm, clear blue waves sweeping over it. Its tail wound up near his shoulder while the head rested near his wrist, jaws open and fangs flashing a warning to any who dared disturb it. Now that they weren’t walking and talking at the same time, Owen had the time to look at it more closely. Across the snake’s body near Oni’s elbow stretched short, jagged stripes of silver, marring the bright colors of the tattoo. He brushed over them with his fingertips and found them to be indented.

“Are these from the dog?” He didn’t look up.

“Mhmm.”

“A shame it damaged the art. But I’m glad that’s all it damaged.” He mused briefly about what Oni said the snake meant, about it bringing good luck. 

“It’ll take more than a dog to bring me down.”

Owen hummed and moved on. Oni’s shoulders bore the faces of a matching pair of strange beasts, with wide eyes and thick red manes, all edged in gold. One had its claws wrapped securely around an ethereal orb, and the other held its young close. Oni followed Owen’s gaze to them and pointed. “These are karajishi. Westerners call them lion dogs. They’re protectors.” He pointed to his right shoulder. “The male is on the right with his mouth open to let evil out, and holds a heaven orb.” Then the left. “The female is on the left with her mouth closed to keep evil out, and holds a cub to represent the earth.”

Owen nodded silently, committing their meaning to memory, then moved on. Just over the top of the shirt’s neckline, vibrant green scales and golden hair caught his attention. Oni hooked a finger under the collar and tugged it down, revealing the massive head of a dragon etched into his chest, surrounded by wispy pink clouds. “In Japan, dragons are a symbol of wisdom and strength. They’re divine blessings. They control everything in the universe.”

Owen tilted his head as he took in the beast’s visage. A fearsome, ghastly face with wild eyes and bared teeth, striking fear into the hearts of those who dared oppose it. And yet, according to Oni, it was such a benevolent, kind being. Owen couldn’t help but notice the ironic similarity to Oni himself. 

He chuckled softly at the thought, causing Oni to give a questioning hum. The smaller omnic sat up slightly, still leaning against his side, and turned to face him. “Oni- Hiei, I...I know we only have a couple weeks left, but-”

A hand on the back of his head caused him to stop mid-sentence, and pulled him closer. Their faceplates met with a gentle click. They had no mouths to engage in a kiss, but the sentiment behind the gesture was enough to send Owen reeling. He melted against him, tilting his head as though it would bring him closer, one hand pressing firmly against the side of the other’s neck. Oni hummed deeply, the sound reverberating in his chest. 

Before he knew it, Owen was straddling Oni’s waist, hands rested on either side of his neck while Oni’s rested on his hips. Their foreheads touched, the only sounds between them the hum of their fans and the gentle hiss of steam from their vents.

“This is a bad idea.”

Oni laughed softly. “A terrible idea.” He kissed Owen again, more briefly this time. “Do you want me to stop?”

He could feel Owen’s grip tighten, his fingers curling against the plating and wires of his neck. His voice came out hushed and desperate. 

“No.”


End file.
